


The Learning Curve of Love

by talmaa



Series: Learning about...things [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone (Walking Dead), And so is Carol, Angst, Blow Jobs, Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Frotting, Hand Jobs, M/M, Michonne is a Good Friend, Oblivious Rick Grimes, POV Alternating, and aaron, season six
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 15:16:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21358336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talmaa/pseuds/talmaa
Summary: Daryl is acting strangely -- he talks way too much! Rick is trying to channel his inner Sherlock Holmes and solve the riddle that is his comrade-in-arms. And it’s not just Daryl; Rick’s got a string of mysteries to solve concerning several members of his extended family, who are all behaving in an increasingly weird way.Daryl struggles with his issues, and Rick finally, finally learns something about himself.*****Time: a few weeks after the Wolves/Walkers-incidents in Alexandria (somewhere around/after ep. 6.10).Heads-up: the “fluff indicator” is off the charts with this one. Angst-level is quite low -- has to be some, though, to keep the guys in character, and what with Daryl’s past, well, you know.Just… needed to do it this way. Need me some fluff… I’m still reeling from season 7, and season 8 ain’t much easier on my poor nerves…
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes
Series: Learning about...things [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562425
Comments: 23
Kudos: 136





	1. Day One

Spencer’s front door was open. Rick saw straight out of the back door to the shimmer of the fire in the garden. They had no rational reason for the open fire -- the weather was mellow for a September evening -- but they all craved the other kind of warmth the fire brought: the hypnotic dance of the flames, the kind shadows it swayed on the faces of the Alexandrians who had gathered around it to spend the evening together. Rick moved silently to the back door and stopped to look at the people. **His** people. And the Alexandrians who were not all quite **his** yet. Time would tell. They had gone through some rough times together lately, though, so Rick was feeling cautiously optimistic.

Michonne, Carol and Denise were sitting together, in the middle of a vocal conversation. Tara was settled down close by, listening to the three women with an amused expression. Maggie was sprawled on a quilt with her head on Glenn’s lap, laughing at something Sasha had just said. Carl hovered near them with Enid. Rosita and Abraham were glued to each other, having a heated argument peppered with definitely R-rated kisses. Rick rolled his eyes. He’d have to keep an eye on the situation; maybe ask those two to tone it down a bit for Carl and Enid.

Aaron and Eric sat on a bench, holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes. Rick smiled. Next to Glenn and Maggie, those two were the most adorable couple in this fucked up world, and somehow renewed his trust in humankind. 

Rick didn’t have a homophobe bone in his body, hadn’t ever really seen the point of being that interested in what other people did together as long as no-one was being abused or made feel bad about themselves in any way. Love was love, lust was lust -- right? Now, if someone was being hurt at the process, then that was something Rick was definitely interested in. His blood boiled, even now, thinking how Pete had treated Jessie. He looked at Aaron and Eric again, saw how tenderly Aaron was brushing Eric’s knuckles with his thumb. No, Rick really didn’t get what the fuss was about gays (_was? or had been? does anyone care anymore, really? aren’t there more pressing issues at hand than what the gender distribution of a romantic couple is?_). It wasn’t as if straight couples had everything figured out perfectly, now was it!

Rick continued to look at the small groups. Sure as hell not all was alright with the world, and who knew what kind of shit would hit the fan tomorrow, but right now Rick’s extended family was at peace, and Rick felt warm and calm. He moved his eyes forward, searching… and yes, Daryl was here. He was sitting slightly apart from the others and Rick actually had him in his direct line of sight. 

Rick frowned. Among the relaxed others, Daryl stood out: he sat there tense and wary, looking at something. Rick blinked, tried to sharpen his eyes, and follow the direction of Daryl’s gaze. 

He was looking at Aaron and Eric. Staring at them. 

Rick bit his lip. He had no idea what Daryl’s opinion about gay people was, not really. Rick couldn’t imagine his upbringing had included much tolerance or acceptance. Merle had been a flaming racist, and Rick could well imagine what Merle’s ideas of ‘true masculinity’ had been. What little Rick knew about Daryl’s father didn’t give him any reason to think that gays had been spoken of respectfully in their household. So, considering, Daryl had seemed remarkably well-adjusted, really. He had taken to Aaron pretty quickly, working with him on supply runs, and Daryl had liked Tara and Denise from the start. 

So where did this intense stare come from? And why? Rick felt a faint stirring of disappointment even though he knew he shouldn’t. Sometimes your upbringing just couldn’t be suppressed, and nobody could say that Daryl hadn’t already achieved so much. What did he expect from him -- bloody **perfection**??

Rick’s lips twitched into a melancholy shadow of a smile. It seemed that that was exactly what he had been expecting from the hunter.

He kept looking at Daryl looking at Aaron and Eric. Rick couldn’t see the expression on his face clearly, but then the wind turned, just a bit, and the flames threw a pool of light on Daryl’s face. Which he probably didn’t realize himself because he didn’t move a muscle. _ Well, that’s interesting_, Rick thought, slightly puzzled. Daryl’s face was not the face of a closet homophobe. There wasn’t an ounce of hostility or aggression, suppressed or otherwise. Rick frowned. He had a lot of experience in interpreting nonverbal communication, but he was the first to admit that his experience lay more with the negative and the aggressive, the lies and the truths, which came with the territory of being an officer of the law. He was glad he didn’t see any of that on Daryl’s face; it was just that now he was forced to try dig up some other explanation. If not scorn, then what was the reason for the intense stare?

It looked like Daryl had almost forgotten that he wasn’t alone -- that he too could be watched. A rare occurrence for the alert, jumpy archer. However, that meant that Rick had ample time to glide his eyes back and forth over his friend’s face, to try to decipher every line and quiver of muscle. He scrolled through all conceivable emotions in his mind until one seemed to hit home. It was a wonder the *click* in his mind wasn’t actually audible all the way to the other side of the fire -- it felt that loud in his head. 

He remembered Lori. How she had sometimes looked when she was watching children in playgrounds or malls. They had tried for a second child for many years, hope finally dwindling after ten years of effort. That was exactly what Lori had looked like. _ Wistful _ \-- looking at something she wanted so bad but couldn’t ever get. (well, little did she know, but Rick so wasn’t going there now.)

Wistful? Was that really it? Rick felt a powerful surge of empathy towards his friend, and criticised himself for not figuring this out sooner. He knew how out of place the hunter sometimes felt. And even though Daryl was supremely confident in some ways, in some others he not only didn’t have a good sense of self-worth but his self-confidence meter almost ran in negative numbers. All his old friends -- including any possible girlfriends -- were probably dead. Rick scolded himself again: he had never even asked whether Daryl had lost someone special. Just because Daryl didn’t **seem** to show any interest in any of the ladies, didn’t mean he wouldn’t want a relationship.

Something in that thought bothered Rick. Something twisted in his gut, surprising him. Now, what was that about? _ Probably just hungry_, and he mentally shrug his shoulders. 

Back to the business at hand: what was it that had bothered him? Thinking, Rick let his eyes drift over the small groups. Abraham and Rosita still arguing and kissing, Glenn looking down at Maggie with such fondness in his smile, Carl and Enid -- wait-a-minute!! -- holding hands now, looking mighty shy. His gaze came back to Daryl who hadn’t moved an inch, who was still watching Aaron and Eric with the same wistful expression, face half covered in stubborn strays of long hair. 

_Oh_. Now he got it. Among all these romantic couples, why was Daryl casting longing looks on the one couple that wasn’t straight?

Well. This took some rearranging of previous conceptions. Ok...hmm... Daryl seemed to get along awfully fine with Aaron. Had even gone so far as vehemently defending Aaron that one time when Rick had grumbled about the Alexandrian attitude and had mentioned Aaron’s name among the others. He spent a lot of time in their garage, tinkling with the motorcycle Aaron had given him. Last week, they had gone for a scouting trip on just that motorcycle, figuring it was more agile for the purpose than taking a car for Aaron, and left with Aaron’s arms wrapped around Daryl’s waist.

_Fucking hunger pangs. Quit it already. In a minute!_

Rick looked at Aaron and Eric again. They were talking animatedly with Morgan; Aaron’s hand on Eric’s shoulder, and they looked relaxed and happy together. 

Nowadays, Rick thought he sort of knew Aaron. He was a genuinely nice person. Earnest, good-natured, brave, and thoroughly bad-ass when it came to defending his people. Even though Rick wished for every happiness for his friend, he couldn’t believe Aaron capable of two-timing Eric. Rick was not naïve, he knew perfectly well what people were capable of, but this, for some reason… just, no. 

He flicked his eyes over to the hunter. Daryl was taking a break from watching the laughing couple; he was staring at his hands, fidgeting with his cigarette. He trailed fingers through his long hair, for a minute baring the whole of his face for Rick to see. Daryl’s eyes were downcast, his jaw was moving tensely, he exhaled, let his rigid shoulders relax, and Rick saw a determined mask fall over his face. When Daryl raised his eyes, again towards the couple, the wistfulness was gone. All that was left was the familiar, guarded expression.

Rick felt for his friend, truly he did. He wanted to help but didn’t quite know what to do. He couldn’t very well bring this up, now could he? Well, **could** he?? No, probably not. Even though Rick didn’t much care who slept (or wanted to sleep) with whom, he knew not everyone shared his opinion, and who knows in how many ways this could be a painful subject for Daryl. Unrequited feelings were never a source of happy conversations anyway, even in the best of circumstances. 

Again his stomach twisted. 

From the corner of his eye, he realized someone was watching him. Slowly, he turned his head. Carol smiled at him. Very carefully she directed her gaze to Daryl, then back at Rick. She raised an eyebrow questioningly.

_She’s probably seen Daryl’s not ok and wants me to go talk to him. Yeah. I’ll grab a piece of pie and do just that. _ Rick walked across the small garden, past the fire, took a few pieces of meat pie on a plate, and strolled over to his friend. Daryl had noticed him immediately and watched him come closer. People were greeting him left and right, and Rick nodded at everyone while sitting down on the narrow bench Daryl was currently occupying. 

“Move your ass, you’re hogging the whole bench,” Rick said jovially. Daryl grunted but shifted a few inches, just enough to let Rick have a bit of elbow room. Rick felt warmth emanate from the archer -- a familiar heat of dozens of nights on the road, before the prison, when they all had huddled together at nights to share their body heat. Most often it had been Carl on the one side of Rick, and Daryl on the other. It just had been like that -- just like it had always been Carol with Beth and Lori, or T-Dog with Hershel, Glenn and Maggie. A feeling of comfortable familiarity washed over Rick, and at the same time his stomach twisted again. 

“Have you had anything to eat yet? I brought two pieces, take one, ok?”

“Nah, I’m good, had two pieces already. Been here awhile. Thanks though.”

Their silence was companionable, just like it always was. Having eaten the pieces, Rick enjoyed being a total savage, and licked his fingers clean. _ Yummy. I should’ve taken a third piece. This oughta stop my stomach twistin’ and turnin’. _ Rick’s belly was full, he was sitting by his friend and trusted second-in-command, surrounded by his family, the weather was fine, and nobody was in mortal danger. Small moments of perfection.

He felt Daryl’s eyes on him, and turned towards him, all the while meticulously sucking on the forefinger of his left hand, raising his eyebrow in question. It was hard to see Daryl’s eyes now, they were so carefully hidden behind the bangs. He raised his right hand and threaded his fingers through Daryl’s bangs to sweep them off his eyes. “I can’t see your face, it’s distracting,” Rick said good-humoredly. Daryl kept looking at him, something in his eyes Rick didn’t quite catch, maybe something resembling a deer-in-the-headlights -- but why would it? There was no reason for Daryl to feel nervous with him! 

Rick nudged him. “Hey, whatcha thinkin’? You good?”

An affirmative grunt. Eyes turned away.

“Anything interestin’ on today’s scouting? Have a good time with Aaron?” Rick’s voice was carefully airy.

Daryl glanced at him quickly, then let his eyes drift over to the couple. “Was fine. Nothin’ special. Aaron’s a good guy, easy to be around.”

_Goddamnit, stomach’s still twisting. Hope I’m not coming down with anything._

“I’m glad you get along so well. Can’t have too many friends nowadays.”

“Wouldn’t know anythin’ about that. Never had any before.” Daryl’s gruff voice held no self-pity, just a statement of a fact.

“Well, now you do. Gotta get used to being liked.”

A glance. A huff. “Some days I am. Some days I ain’t. ‘s not easy to trust bein’ liked. Not really somethin’ I was encouraged to do, before.” 

Daryl’s voice was darkly amused. Rick was surprised -- the archer tended to be a man of so few words that this qualified as chatty. Rick decided to strike when the iron was hot.

“When **do** you trust in that, then?”

“Well… I guess there were days before the prison. Not so many but some. More in the prison. Days when I thought you guys liked **me **and not just the hunter. Toughest was when I left with Merle. That was a day when I didn’t trust. You said you needed me. But I wasn’t sure if it was me or the hunter you needed.”

“You came back though,” Rick said faintly, overwhelmed by this rarest of phenomenon: a talkative Daryl.

“For me. I came back for me. Because of… I decided I didn’t care what **you** liked. The hunter or just me. It was… what **I** liked. And needed. I **liked** being with you, and I wanted to do what **I** liked.” 

Daryl didn’t look Rick in the eye. He was staring at his hands, fidgeting his fingers, restless. 

“Merle didn’t get it then. Probably did before the end. He wasn’t **liked** either, never was. Useful. Fit into groups of his own kind. I don’t know that **likin’** ever came into it.

And there’s nothin’ wrong with needin’ people. I got it then. Needin’ ain’t the same as usin’. Exploitin’. I guess… something clicked when me and Merle saved those people on the bridge. You needed me, maybe liked too, but I needed you as well, and liked you, no doubt about that. You were my family like nobody had been before. Not like that. And it could’ve worked out, for Merle even, without his stupid thing with Michonne.”

Daryl shrugged. “So yeah, some days I trust and some days I don’t. Bein’ here’s tough…”

“I know it is.” Rick said gently. Just as gently he put his hand on Daryl’s shoulder, squeezed, wanting to channel understanding and friendship.

Daryl tensed up for a second; Rick wondered if this time he’d made a mistake with this gesture, so habitual in their daily lives, but just before he took his hand away, Daryl relaxed into his touch, and Rick could’ve sworn he saw Daryl’s lips twitch, smile-like.

“It still ain’t easy. Some days are worse than others. It’s like an itch on my skin, the feelin’ that people are lookin’ right through me. Like, before. But then it gets better, doesn’t need much. Carl comes over just to chat. Carol drags me to their place to taste some new recipe. Aaron and Eric invite to dinner. Or somethin’. Little stuff. Makes me feel better about myself. Like I exist.”

Daryl’s voice had gotten so low Rick had trouble hearing the words. He was shocked by the things the hunter was saying. Daryl was reticent and guarded with his emotions, to a fault, really. Only rarely had Rick witnessed Daryl give anything away. Mostly just when something absolutely horrible happened. Sophia’s fate. Beth’s death. Merle’s death. Or the few outbursts of violent rage -- but even they had got rarer as Daryl had got more comfortable in his own skin.

Rick was embarrassed. It wasn't that he didn’t think Daryl was smart. He KNEW without the smallest doubt that the man was smart, and clever, and had sound instincts, and a real gift for tactical thinking. He just hadn’t guessed the archer had a knack for introspection. 

_After all this time of traveling and fighting and living together, how is it even possible I didn’t know any of this about him? I had no idea he might want a relationship. I had even less of an idea that he has a crush on Aaron. Who is a man. Which is neither here nor there, but I do admit I never saw it coming. And now I learn he’s got this philosophical introspection thing going. _

Rick’s eyes were glued on Daryl’s face. The archer wasn’t looking at him. His gaze wandered every which way, and the silent minutes stretched on and on, the voices and laughter of the others a background to be ignored. Rick’s hand was still on Daryl’s shoulder. Finally, it was Daryl who broke the silence.

“Man, say somethin’. You’re freakin’ me out here.” At last he focused on Rick, blue eyes narrow and wary behind the bangs.

“Daryl, I had no idea you felt this way. Why didn’t you say something, ever? Didn’t you trust me enough?”

“Nah, man, this ain’t about you… It’s me. I don’t even know why I talked just now.”

Rick noticed Daryl’s eyes stray towards the couple again. His stomach twisted so violently, for a moment he felt nauseous.

“When you left with Merle, I think I lost my mind a little. Ask Glenn. Ask Maggie. Ask anyone. You’d’ve seen that, you wouldn’t have had to wonder who it was I needed. I guess saying things don’t make them real enough for you but… you have no idea how much you mean to us. Sure, you hunt, you track, you fight like a demon, and we’d all have been dead twice over without you. For practical purposes, you’re probably the most essential of our entire family. But, you know, I guess you could say something similar about Carol, who’s probably the most lethal of us all. But that’s not why you **like** Carol, is it? It’s not the reason why we **need** her. It’s the other stuff, her personality, her loyalty, her absolute love for us.

And it’s the same with you, you know, you gotta know that?! It’s the whole package: your skills, your steadfast loyalty, your huge heart; it’s you taking care of Carl and being so gentle with Judith; it’s you being there by my side, being the one I can trust to keep me grounded whatever happens. You’re the one I can relax with without saying anything. You let me be me. I had hoped you’d know that I’ll always let you be you. ‘Cause you just being you, that’s pretty damn **good**. You gotta know that by now?”

Rick noticed a flush rise on Daryl’s face; it wasn't like he didn’t feel himself blush as well. Sure, he was more talkative than Daryl but it wasn't everyday a guy talked so much about **feelings**. Especially not in this brave new world where most of existence went into survival. He just hoped that he had said at least a few right words, something to solidify Daryl’s trust that Rick would never, ever, think less of him for him being who he was. He really hoped he could get Daryl to say something about Aaron because, man, that couldn’t end well, and Rick would so much want to help Daryl see it before he got in too deep.

He squeezed Daryl’s shoulder again. Moved his thumb in round circles in a clumsy caress, then his whole hand up and down Daryl’s arm, to show he cared, and to ground Daryl like he always grounded him. _ You exist. You matter. _

“Like I said, sometimes I do and then I don’t. Most of the time I guess I do know. But then, it’s worse when it crashes. The fall is hard. It didn’t used to, I guess ‘cause I never thought much of myself and nobody else did either. It’s different now so…”

Daryl kept looking at Aaron and Eric. Rick felt a surge of violent temptation to grab Daryl’s face and force him to meet his eyes. To look at **him**, not at someone else. Ok, not for the same reasons but whatever. At **him**! 

He steadied himself. A long and sometimes bitter experience had taught him that trying to back Daryl in a corner never worked. Ever. You simply could not force an issue with the man. He locked up tighter than Fort Knox.

Rick glanced around. Maggie was putting more wood in the fire. Carol was standing by the table, picking tomatoes on her plate -- and watching Rick and Daryl with a hint of a frown on her face. When she realized Rick had noticed her, she raised an eyebrow questioningly. This time, Rick didn’t quite grasp what the question was. He decided a nod would serve a multitude of purposes, and then turned his face back to the archer. Daryl sat there, hunched, elbows resting on his thighs, one hand running through his fringe again and again. Rick realized he had been running his hand on Daryl’s arm all this time. _ Should he stop or did his friend find comfort and reassurance in the touch? He hadn’t pulled back, so there’s that. _ Nevertheless, Rick slowly put his hand back on his lap.

Daryl pulled a deep breath and straightened his back. Looked at Rick with his usual stolid expression. 

“Enough I guess. All this shit about feelings. Sorry, man, I still don’t know what made me talk like that to you. Just forget it ok.”

“Talk to **me** especially or to anybody in general? You should have **someone** to talk about stuff. You know, **this** stuff. Like tonight.”

“I talk some to Aaron.”

Rick swallowed. Tried hard to keep his voice steady and good-humored.

“Why Aaron? He’s a nice person for sure but why him, why someone you barely know?”

Rick cursed at himself. The way Daryl glanced at him said louder than words that the man had read between the lines, had heard the screaming bundle of implied questions: “Why not **me**? you know **me**! we’re old **friends**, aren’t we?”

Truly pathetic.

Daryl’s eyes, unreadable, stayed on Rick. Usually, Rick only had to take one look at Daryl and just **know** what he was thinking. Which had come in handy numerous times; in the thick of a fight, or in the midst of a difficult argument with the group, it normally sufficed to look at each other to convey a long conversation, and a tiny nod or a shake of the head would seal the deal for Rick. But now, Daryl’s gaze was shuttered, and Rick had no idea what was going on in his head.

For a few moments, it seemed like Daryl wasn’t going to answer. 

He grunted, sort of pensively.

“He don’t know me, not anythin’ about me. Never met Merle. Never met me, before. Don’t know what I was. Easier to talk. And he knows somethin’ about bein’ an outsider.”

Rick would’ve wanted to argue that he knew too, but they’d both have known it wasn’t true. Rick had always been an insider wherever he went -- as a good-looking straight white male, with an ok family background and reasonable education, there simply wasn’t any way he could claim knowing what it meant being generally not wanted, an outsider, not being welcome; to be sneered at or ridiculed on principle alone.

_Well_. _ This is not about me_, Rick reminded himself. _ No reason to feel sorry for myself because I’ve always had it pretty easy. That’s just childish. This is about Daryl. This is about being a good friend to Daryl._

But before he had time to say anything at all, the other man rose in a very decisive manner, took a few steps, turned his head back to Rick and said gruffly: “Thanks for listenin’. Forget it, though. Not worth rememberin’. Nothin’ you can do, anyways.”

And then he was gone.

************************

Carol had been watching, the plate all but forgotten in her hand. She followed Daryl with her eyes, and when he was gone, she briskly trotted to Rick.

“What the hell was that about?”

“How so?”

“Don’t try that with me, Grimes. I know you two better than most. Something’s been bothering Daryl for weeks, and he sat alone tonight, and if that wasn’t brooding I don’t know what is. I’m surprised Aaron and Eric don’t have burning holes in their heads for all the staring he did. And then you came and there was some **more** staring. What IS it with you guys??”

“Fuck if I know.” Rick was frustrated, and Carol’s rant didn’t help much. “Now you’re telling me Daryl’s been upset for weeks, and that’s yet **another** thing I didn’t know. How come you notice this stuff and I don’t? He’s a… he’s like a brother to me and it seems I’m the last one to find anything out.” 

“Oh honey, get real! You’ve been so wrapped up in rebuilding this place after the Wolves and the Walkers that you’ve been ignoring us all. When’s the last time you actually sat down for a proper conversation with any of us?” 

Rick looked quite struck, and Carol leaned in to kiss his cheek. 

“Don’t mind us, though, we’re all good. Maggie and Glenn and I, we’ve been with you so long that we know you love us anyway. Michonne just raises her eyebrows and says, “It’s Rick!” like it explains everything. And Carl… well, I bet nothing much can get between you two these days.” 

Carol grew more serious. 

“But Daryl, he’s another thing. You know how he can be. Feels like he doesn’t belong. In the prison not so much but here, it’s so goddamned **civilized**,” Carol snorted, her way of saying the word sounding like a profanity, “and this is just the kind of setting which must bring back some unpleasant memories for him. This is not the time or place to let Daryl be too much on his own.”

Rick felt a faint blush on his face. Carol’s criticism tended to have that effect on people, never mind their age or status.

“It’s not like he’s on his own! He **lives** with us! -And he has new friends,” Rick continued, more calmly. “Not a day goes by without him spending time with Aaron, fixing the bike in their garage, or going scouting, or whatever.”

In retrospect, Rick wasn’t absolutely certain that was the most sensible thing to say; he thought it might be possible that it didn’t come out just right -- that it may have implied something more. Carol was too observant for her own good anyway, and if Daryl was harbouring feelings for Aaron then, well, that was not his secret to reveal with incautious babble.

“Oh yes, well, Aaron… he’s a really great guy, and so attractive, right?! Don’t you just **love** how good friends they’ve become? It’s quite heart-warming to see how Aaron and Eric welcome Daryl to their company with open arms.” 

Rick was a bit baffled by the unmistakably teasing tone; and was it really necessary to gush like that -- Carol practically cooed. In a second, however, she renewed the admonishing steel to her voice. 

“I want Daryl to have everything he deserves. He doesn’t really think he deserves very much. But he does, and you know it too. And if he now has a new bosom buddy, I really don’t begrudge it. Nor should you. Especially as **you** have left him at loose ends in a surroundings that’s definitely out of his comfort zone. If someone is taking your place, you have only yourself to blame.”

“I don’t begrudge anything!” 

So Carol didn’t have any idea of Daryl’s feelings. She was under the impression that Rick was **jealous** of Daryl having new friends. Well fuck, wasn’t **that** just…

...

...remarkably accurate, actually.

_Oh hell._

Carol kept looking at him like he was a five-year-old who she’d just sent to sit in the corner and think about what he’d done. And that was about right how Rick felt. _How small and petty can you be if you don’t want a person you care for to have other important people?_ Well, not quite -- Rick loved that Carol and Daryl were so close. Other **new** important people, then.

But Carol didn’t have all the facts, now did she?? If she had, she wouldn’t be so happy about Aaron… she’d know how devastating the rejection would be for Daryl, and anyway, even without an outright rejection, a one-sided, unrequited love affair could suck the energy right out of anyone, and Daryl didn’t deserve that either.

He **had** to speak with Daryl about this, somehow. Ok, maybe not straight away, maybe some observation was in order first. And first priority: he had to be a better friend to him. Daryl did everything for his extended family, he deserved better than this. Rick should delegate some stuff to others, he didn’t have to do everything himself. It was about time he had more time to spend with Daryl. Maybe go on a scouting trip with him. Like the old days.

Rick smiled, deep in thought. Carol nudged him playfully. “Whatcha thinking? What makes you smile like that?”

“Thinking of Daryl.” 

Carol snorted. 

“Oh I see, yes yes, very funny… I was just thinking that maybe tomorrow I could go outside with Daryl. Like we used to, before. I don’t know why I stopped going with him.”

************************

Rick walked over to Aaron and Eric. 

“Listen, Aaron, I was wondering, you planning to go on a supply run tomorrow with Daryl, right?”

“Yes, we’ve talked about that…”

“...so would it be ok if I went instead of you?”

Aaron didn’t have time to answer; Eric chimed in a delighted “Yes! Aaron says yes! Oh shut up, you would’ve said yes anyway…”

“Did you already talk to Daryl?” asked Aaron.

“Well, I got the idea just a second ago, and he’s already left, so I thought I’d ask you first.”

“I’m sure it’s ok for him,” said Eric. “Thanks for this, I’ve got to admit I’m always nervous when Aaron’s outside. Even with Daryl, and that’s saying something. Probably nothing would take that guy down but even so...”

“No biggie, Aaron deserves this well enough, and I’d kinda like to go outside again. It’s been a while, just an ordinary gig.”

“Thanks man. Have fun out there!” Aaron smiled. Eric winked, which was a bit odd. Oh well.

_All in all, that was inconclusive_, Rick thought. _Eric barged in to answer every question on Aaron’s behalf which **could** mean something except it probably doesn’t since those two tend to do that with each other. And Aaron really didn’t seem to mind, not going._

Rick waved good night, called out to Carl “no more than an hour!”, and walked to their house.

Home. House. Still not quite sure which. He trudged upstairs, tired all of a sudden. When he reached Daryl’s room -- just opposite his own -- he stopped for a moment. Even raised his hand, prepared to knock. To talk about tomorrow’s plans right away. 

His hand refused to knock. **He** would’ve wanted to but his arm simply did not agree with him. Rick held his breath for a moment. The silence inside Daryl’s room was absolute. It was so determinedly quiet that it had to mean Daryl was in there, alone, and wanted to stay that way without having to actually say it.

_Ok then. _

_What a weird evening._

Rick didn’t sleep very well. He didn’t remember any dreams in the morning, except that for once they hadn’t included any walkers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Rather a lot of smallish liberties have been taken with the TV-plot. Sorry about that.  
-The Walking Dead and its wonderful cast of characters are not mine. I just play with them for fun :)  
-English is not my first language so apologies for any and all mistakes, as well as the horrifically ”transatlantic” language, word choices and spelling; I keep going back and forth between UK/US English... Furthermore, I have no idea how to write down even vaguely passable Southern dialect/accent; I so wish I did, but no can do, sorry :(


	2. Day Two

Daryl and Michonne were in the kitchen when Rick shuffled downstairs in the morning. He dropped himself on a kitchen chair and wailed in mock pain: “Coffee. For pity’s sake, gimme coffee!”

Before the last word was out, a full mug of hot black coffee slammed on the table in front of him. 

“Sir yes sir, anythin’ else I can do for you? Sir?” 

Daryl was uncharacteristically chipper, and it was like the weird yesterday evening had never happened.

“At ease soldier, although I do like the way your mind works. Methinks sandwiches….”

“Fuck off.” The gravelly voice was good-humored.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted.”

Michonne was leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking her coffee, and watching them with a benign smile. 

“Well aren’t you two sweet! - Rick, you look like utter shit. Didn’t you sleep at ALL last night? Yo, Dixon, no reason to smirk, you don’t look so hot either. Sleeping got out of fashion and nobody told me?”

“‘s ok. Slept some. Don’t need that much,” Daryl mumbled grudgingly.

“Says you. You need more, says I,” Michonne stated firmly. Rick rubbed his temples. Their family had WAY too many of these assertive ladies.

Michonne took one step forward and slapped Rick upside the head. “You got five seconds to re-think that particular sentence, Rick Grimes!”

Daryl burst out in a truly uncharacteristic laughter. “Man, you said that out loud! Awwww, wouldn’t wanna be you right now!”

Rick buried his face in his hands. _ Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day… _

Michonne bit her lip to prevent herself laughing, and took pity on their poor leader. “Oh stop it. Honestly, what’s wrong, Rick? You left early and I thought you went straight to bed.”

“I did! Just...had a weird night. Didn’t sleep so good.”

“Nightmares?” Michonne asked. They all understood those.

“Not really. Don’t remember anymore. No walkers though.”

Daryl had sat down with his coffee and a piece of bread. He was leafing through a comic book, left there by Carl. Or possibly Michonne.

Rick sat there, drinking his coffee, watching Daryl, thinking, searching for the right words. He had a feeling Daryl might not react 100 % positive to the change in today’s scouting partner. Probably because he’d prefer spending time with Aaron. And probably just because he was **Daryl** and, after last evening, most likely had a mental hangover the size of Arizona.

Michonne sensed something out of place, like ripples exuding from…. yes, from the men. Now, why was that? Nothing very special seemed to have happened last evening. She had seen them sitting almost in each other’s lap, but then, that wasn’t really anything new; they always sat close, probably a remnant of the pre-prison time -- she’d heard stories -- after which not many of that group had any sense of personal space left. They had talked, she had noticed that as well. Ok, _ Daryl _ and _ talking _ didn’t usually go together but he has been known to string more than five words together every now and then. 

Her eyes moved like a scanner between the two men. Daryl seemed to be skimming the comic book but unlike a few minutes ago, he was faking it. His body gave him away, as always. A foot rapidly tapping the floor, one finger faintly clicking the coffee mug. He wasn’t subtle, and since the only thing **ever** to make Daryl Dixon nervous was personal stuff, anything remotely related to handling intimacy of any kind, then… something had happened last evening.

Michonne’s eyes flicked back to Rick. He drank the coffee, outwardly calm, all the while watching his friend. She could just see the wheels whirring in his head. Michonne decided to be the bigger person here, threw up her hands, and stomped out, leaving the two idiots to fend for themselves. 

Rick put the mug down. Daryl glanced at him, eyes glinting behind the too-long fringe. 

“Aaron ain’t coming with you today.”

“What? Why? Somethin’ wrong with him?”

For some reason, Daryl’s questions annoyed Rick.

“Nothin’ wrong with him. It’s just that I asked him to stay at home. I wanna come with you today. If that’s ok?”

Daryl threaded his fingers through his hair. That let Rick see his eyes. Again the deer-in-the-headlights. What the everloving fuck was going on with him? How had Rick missed this -- that something was obviously wrong with his **best friend**? _How much can a person suck at being a friend??_

“Yeah. Ok. Twenty minutes? We’ll go north-west this time, there’s a village Aaron thinks he hasn’t checked out yet.”

“Just the truck this time, alright?”

Silence. Rick would prefer it if Daryl didn’t take his bike -- they might be able to talk some in the truck... but would Daryl go along with this?

“If that’s what you want.”

And then he was gone. Again. Fucking Phantom.

************************

They had been on the road for half an hour. Rick was driving, Daryl sat by his side looking out the side window, absentmindedly stroking the crossbow on his lap. Rick didn’t enjoy the silence, which was a first. Usually the silence with Daryl was comfy and safe. Like you’d bask in the warmth of a campfire. The thought didn’t make Rick cringe and dismiss it as silly flourish, unbefitting these harsh times. It wasn’t ‘flourish’ because that was what it **actually** felt.

Not now, though. Daryl’s eyes had not wavered from the side window, not even once. His body wasn’t sprawled all over the front seat like usually, relaxed and coiled for action at the slightest sign of trouble, all at the same time. No, his back was straight as a rod, and the man exuded tension.

_Ok. Let’s list the evidence and assumptions, and see what we’ve got._

_Carol says he’s been upset for a few weeks._

_ He’s not acting himself around me. He either says too much or goes right back to saying too little. _

_ He’s nervous, and obviously doesn’t want me to find out...what? Well, that _ ** _is _ ** _ the question, isn’t it? _

_ He’s spending (way too much) time with Aaron. He stared at the couple, and I’m betting everything I have that the look was, well, at the risk of sounding like a Victorian romance: yearning. _

_ So, does this confirm that he’s got a thing for Aaron? _

_ Inconclusive, but probable. _

_ However, I still don’t get why he acts weird around me? What have I got to do with this? _

_ There’s no chance in hell he would think I would care a bit if he was into men, or women, or both. _

_ Or is there? We’ve never actually talked about that, I’ve always just thought it’s a given. _

_ Hmm. _

_ Or is it that he feels bad because Aaron is taken? Ashamed of his feelings? Thinking I might say...what exactly? Be disappointed in him somehow? _

_ With his violently vacillating self-esteem levels, it’s conceivable he may even worry that I would think it’s ridiculous that ‘someone like him’ would dare have a crush on ‘someone like Aaron’ who he obviously respects very much. _

Rick took one hand off the wheel and rubbed his head in frustration. This was going nowhere fast.

*****forty-five minutes into the roadtrip*****

“...so I’m thinkin’ no,” said Daryl.

“But why? Why wouldn’t it be a good idea to start a survival school?”

“School’s a ridiculous word for it, for one. I ain’t never liked teachers much, and you wanna make me one? Ain’t my idea of a good time.” Daryl sniffed in derision and adjusted himself on the seat, relaxing infinitesimally.

“We have to get all the Alexandrians up to par with the survival and fighting skills. After the Wolves and the walker break-in, they fucking **finally** see that they need to. Who’s there to teach them if not us, huh, tell me that? So stop the griping, you know you’re the obvious choice for teaching archery, tracking, and general how-to-survive-anything-on-just-a-few-worms-and-a-knife.”

A snort, and another near imperceptible yield towards relaxation.

“Michonne could, I don’t know, teach them to handle blades and swords and stuff. Carol and Sasha are really good shots, they could go with that. Rosita and Abraham -- overall gun stuff, recognizing and using different sorts of weapons, everything from your everyday sidearms to fucking RPGs. We’ve gotta be ready for anything. The Governor and the Wolves weren’t the last of the people like that. Just sayin’. Also, Morgan and his staff, Denise could do first aid… Come on, it’s not like you’d be the only one!”

“Didn’t hear you mention your name there, huh, what’s with that?”

This time, the voice was definitely laced with amusement, and Daryl was peering at Rick through his fringe with a slight quirk at the corner of his mouth. 

_Progress, finally!_

“Well, obviously I’d be the supervisor. The principal of the school, if you will,” deadpanned Rick, and got a short but satisfactory chuckle as his reward. 

For a minute Rick forgot he was doing this for a Purpose; there was just this simple little warm _ something _ in his heart. He liked the sound of Daryl’s too-rare laughter. Maybe he didn’t **completely** suck at being a friend, after all.

*****one hour and thirty-five minutes into the roadtrip*****

“Ain’t telling you!!”

“Oh come on man, it’s not like it matters now!”

“You first.”

“What are you, five? Ok then, my most guilty pleasure music-wise. No problem, that would be either Lady Gaga or Katy Perry.”

Daryl’s silence spoke louder than words.

“What can I tell you! Lori liked that stuff so it was always on at home, and no amount of Metallica and AC/DC that Shane tried to brainwash me with could drown “I kissed a girl” in my head. Lori found it supremely amusing for some reason.”

So did Daryl, apparently.

“You can’t put it off anymore. Out with it, Dixon! What was it? Backstreet Boys? Madonna? Singin’ in the rain? Diamonds are a girl’s best friend??”

“Stop… Ok then. Nickelback and Shakira.”

“And those are your **guilty** pleasures? Nothing wrong with those. Shakira is pretty easy on the eyes, too. Or was. Who knows what’s happened to her.”

“The guys Merle and me hung around with... I made a mistake of listenin’ to this stuff once. Apparently, a ‘real man’ don’t wanna hear that girly crap. If it ain’t country music or hard rock, it ain’t right for a man.”

“You didn’t stop though?”

“Like hell I did! Not their place to say what I can listen or not. Merle tried to bitch about it once. I said, as long as *NSYNC keeps doin’ it for him, he doesn’t exactly have anythin’ to bitch about. So I had somethin’ on him, too. Balance of terror, kinda.”

*****two and a half hours into the roadtrip*****

“Eric was glad for the day off with Aaron.”

“Yeah, they like spendin’ time together.”

“They’re a cute couple. Almost as touchy-feely all the time as Maggie and Glenn.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with that.” His voice held an angry undertone, ready to snap. 

“Never said there was,” Rick said evenly. “The world is so broken it’s good to see that there’s still a few solid things, like that couple.”

A grunt. _ Neutral? Affirmative? _ For once, Rick couldn’t tell.

*****three hours fifty minutes into the roadtrip*****

“I never have asked… did you have someone, before?”

“Nah, not my thing.”

“Not your thing, what exactly?”

“Relationships.”

“So, no girlfriends?”

“Nope. Not that Merle didn’t try to shove them on me. I’m no catch though, and they knew it.”

They had arrived at the village; Rick drove the truck in front of the first shop and shut the engine. He felt a stirring of pure white outrage. Enough!

“Ain’t **nothing** wrong with you, and anyone would be **lucky** to have you. You gotta stop putting yourself down, man. Ain’t nobody else doing it, just you, don’t you see that? Those people who did that to you, before, they ain’t here anymore, and sorry if I’m offending your old friends but clearly they weren’t right in the head if that’s the way they made you feel about yourself!”

Rick shoved the door open and stepped outside, still angry at the world who had made a **decent** man feel worthless. Angry at the world which forced a **good** man to fight his inner demons as if there weren’t quite enough of outer devils to battle with. It was all so unnecessary, so unfair. Rick felt like smacking something. Preferably Merle, or Daryl’s shitty excuse for a dad.

He didn’t see the shocked expression on Daryl’s face. Didn’t notice him freeze for a minute, replaying what he had just heard, over and over. 

Rick snapped at people, yes. He went full-on crazy at them, yes. 

He **never** snapped at Daryl. Ever. So this was something to take seriously.

Daryl could prioritize, though. Survival 101. So he saved every single word, securely tucked in his mind. He’d think about it later. On the way back. Or at home. In his room. Alone. 

************************

They stopped for a few hours at that small village. There were some tiny shops, a bar, and some not so affluent-looking houses. The place was surprisingly devoid of walkers. Not much stuff left, they thought, until they found the door to the bar’s basement. It wasn’t deliberately hidden, it just had a cupboard fallen sideways in front of it which probably had saved it from other, more hurried looters. They found alcohol, of course, but also a lot of snacks, water containers, and there was also a large freezer full of frozen food. They decided it was worth the try to take the freezer back to Alexandria; with luck, the contents should stay frozen enough for the four hours it would take them to drive straight back.

The place was relatively safe, so they rested a while, sitting outside the bar, drinking some water, eating their sandwiches. This time, the silence was as it should be.

Daryl leaned on the bar’s wall, eyes more than half closed against the pale September sun. Rick had his elbows on his knees, hands clasped, watching the empty village. He turned his head and looked at his friend. **Really** looked. Lori had sometimes amused herself with bugging Rick to evaluate “manly beauty”. She said it was interesting to know what looks good in a guy to another guy. So, he looked at Daryl like he was preparing a report for Lori. 

How dumb had those women been, “knowing” that Daryl wasn't a catch? _The guy's resourceful, clever, responsible, and does have a sense of humor even though he rarely laughs. Ain’t the joke-telling kind, that’s for sure. But then, if someone had bothered back then, maybe he would be? How old is he anyway? Early forties? That’s a heck of a long time to believe you’re worth nothing._

_Daryl is… kind of handsome, I guess_, Rick thought, tilting his head, thinking. _Great arms, nimble fingers. Never stands still. Moves quiet like a panther when he wants to. _And really, watching Daryl use his crossbow was a thing of beauty. Lori hadn’t liked Daryl much, but even she had had that faraway look in her eyes when Daryl patrolled with the weapon. A protector, a provider.

Also, Daryl had the bad boy thing going for him. 

His hair was too long but, to be honest, Rick didn’t really mind. When they had met, Daryl had had short hair and a protective, prickly mental wall a mile thick. As time went by, the hair got longer and the wall thinned to next to nothing. Maybe the hair was Daryl’s wall against others, all that was left of the aggressive, knee-jerk defences. Anyhow, Rick kind of liked it. How it fell on his face. Curled just so. How Daryl threaded his fingers through the long bangs when he was nervous.

Eyes, then. Blue. The exact dictionary definition of ‘blue’. 

Rick couldn’t imagine Daryl clean-shaven. 

Once Rick had chatted with Lori about lips. Yeah, way back, they had talked about the weirdest things! He had asked what’s the general consensus among women: full lips, thin lips, or what. Which were the sexiest? Lori had scoffed at his attempt at over-simplification. No such consensus existed, said she. Depended on the person the lips belonged to. Lori had a daydreaming look in her eyes when she said she’d seen some glorious specimen with thin lips -- they’d been sexy as hell, said she, looked like they meant business…

Rick was quite certain Lori would’ve given a thumbs-up to Daryl. Lips-wise.

“Wanna tell me why you’re starin’ at me?”

For a split second, Rick was at a loss for words. Obviously it wouldn’t be a great idea to explain why. Went without saying. ‘Awkward’ wouldn’t begin to describe it. Even though there was nothing to it! Just playing an old game in case he ever bumped into one of those idiots from Daryl’s past. He’d be well prepared to give them a fucking **list** of all the reasons Daryl Dixon was a hell of a catch.

It was more a question who’d be worthy of **him** than the other way around, for God’s sake!

Months ago, Rick had thought that Carol and Daryl… but apparently not. They were just good friends.

If things were different, Aaron would be worthy, of course. A thoroughly good guy, as mentioned before. However. Things weren’t different. 

“Just checkin’ if you’re still awake. If Michonne is to be believed, you need all the sleep you can get.” 

_Oh, the sweet art of lying._

*****forty minutes on the road back to Alexandria*****

“I’ve never really traveled… and the way the world is, probably never will. I mean, a bit of a challenge to pop into Paris for a weekend. Swimming’s just not gonna cut it.”

“No honeymoon trips or nothin’?”

“We went to San Francisco for a week. Before Carl, we traveled a bit. New York, Niagara Falls, the usual. After Carl, not so much. We weren’t rich, and we decided rather to spend the money on living comfortably at home. Who would’ve known how the world turned out…”

Silence again for a few miles. Rick waited for Daryl to volunteer some information but no such luck this time.

“What about you?”

“Nah, before Alexandria, never been out of Georgia.” He stayed quiet for a few seconds. “‘s funny… I said the same to Beth, after the prison fell. She wanted to play this game, some ‘I have never’ shit.”

Rick glanced at his friend. Surprisingly, Daryl looked back, with real sorrow in his eyes. Rick held his gaze as long as he dared -- he was driving, after all --, hoping Daryl would see that he understood.

“I know. We all loved Beth.”

*****an hour and twenty-five minutes on the road back to Alexandria*****

“Michonne. Absolutely.”

“Really? I’d have thought you’d pick Carol.”

“Nah, I’d pick Carol if you’d said to pick someone I’d never wanna go against in somethin’ like a guerilla-type fight.”

“You got a point. She’s goddamned devious, and she knows how to play a long game. Still, Michonne??”

“You’ve **seen** her fight, right? The katana and the attitude… no way I’d fight her one on one. I’d stay in the woods and pick her out with the crossbow.”

“And you’d probably be wise to do so, my friend,” Rick said with a mock shudder. “That katana is the stuff of nightmares. Still, I’d pick Glenn.”

“What? Glenn? The fuck??”

“What? He’s one slippery dude, and half my age! Sure, I’d take him out in a fist fight if I could just get him to fuckin’ **stay still** long enough!”

Daryl’s chuckles rumbled over the noise of the truck.

*****two hours and twenty minutes on the road back to Alexandria*****

“So, no girlfriends… how’s your general outlook on relationships then? I mean, would you want one if one was available?”

Daryl stayed quiet for the longest time, looking out the side window, tapping his thumb on his thigh.

“What’s with the third degree?” He didn’t sound angry, more just… genuinely curious.

“Nothin’. Just makin’ conversation. We’ve never talked about this stuff. I mean, you already know about me and Lori, no mystery there. Just realized that there’s so much I don’t know about you.”

“Ain’t that interestin’.”

“Now now, what did we talk about earlier?” Rick’s voice was mock-severe, like scolding an unruly child, and Daryl’s lips did twitch just a bit, thank God. “Try to remember that you ARE interesting, for us and in general. So let’s try this again: relationship for you, yes or no?”

*****two hours and thirty minutes on the road back to Alexandria*****

Rick was starting to think Daryl wouldn’t answer. And it would’ve been weird to ask again. Like it really was the third degree and not just innocent chit-chat. Rick so didn’t want the return of the morning’s tension.

“Fine. Maybe.”

“Maybe what?”

“Maybe a relationship. Although I can’t imagine anyone wantin’...” 

Rick cut right into that nonsense.

“Now now now! Not again! Let’s just assume someone would want you for the long haul, and go from there. Play along now, man! A proper relationship with an eligible person, that’s the premise, alright? ‘m not talking about a one night stand here.”

“Wouldn’t know much about those either. But ok,” Daryl went on. Rick’s neck had turned so fast there was an actual *crack* but Daryl didn’t let that stop his flow of words. “I guess it’d depend on the person. If I trusted someone enough, then, maybe. If they’d let me be. Can’t see myself as a nine to five desk jockey, stayin’ in all the time, readin’ newspapers, mowin’ the lawn every Saturday, attendin’ cocktail parties, or some shit. Havin’ to go to couples’ councelin’ on account of I don’t talk enough of my **feelings**.” At that, Daryl threw a pointed scowl in Rick’s general direction.

Rick had overcome the shock of Daryl’s words. Not that Rick himself was much of an advocate for one-night stands, having started dating Lori at 17, and not ever cheating on her. _But that Daryl..? Boggles the mind._

“I wouldn’t worry about newspapers. The situation bein’ what it is. But ok, fair enough, I hear ya. Not opposed to relationships on principle, check.”

“Merle had girlfriends, a new one every month. Sex, drugs and rock n roll, you know. Not exactly a great model for relationships. Not like Glenn and Maggie. I like how they are. Aaron and Eric, them too.”

They didn’t talk anymore for the rest of the drive. Daryl looked thoughtful -- not tense, just wrapped up in his own thoughts. 

Rick didn’t try to start new conversations. He had so much food for thought that really, his brains must’ve gained a few pounds. 

What did it mean that Daryl liked Aaron and Eric **as a couple**? So, was he or was he not interested in Aaron? 

For once, Rick actually looked forward to the night, the peaceful solitude of his own room where he could mull this mystery over and over. Amused, he shook his head at himself, earning a confused glance from Daryl. Obviously life had been way too easy for a few weeks now if he had time to go all Sherlock Holmes over his friend’s lovelife.

  
  



	3. Day Three

Next morning, Rick stumbled to the kitchen, in no better shape than the previous morning. Daryl took one look at him, and gave him his own mug.

“Ain’t touched it yet. You need it more, looks like.”

“Thanks. Is there any more? One mug just won’t go far enough.”

“The fuck man? Don’t sleep?”

Rick cradled the mug in his hands. The mug was burning hot. The pain felt good, kept him awake. The fuck indeed.

“Don’t know what’s wrong. A lot on my mind, I guess. I keep seeing these dreams…”

“About what?” Daryl leaned against the kitchen top, hands in his pockets. Relaxed, curious, a bit worried for his friend.

”Wish I knew. This is the second night. Nothing to worry about but God how it messes with my head. I don’t think… I think they’re not nightmares. No-one’s dying, or torn apart, or being bitten or anything. I think. I don’t have those vibes.” Rick rubbed his forehead roughly with the back of his hand. “Anyway, some more coffee, I think it’ll be ok.” Rick yawned. “So, did we have something planned for today?”

“You tell me, you’re the boss.”

Daryl was on the receiving end of such a murderous glance that he relented.

“Carol popped in and said she’d wanna talk about the school.” Daryl snorted. “Man, you gotta figure out another name. Can’t keep a straight face, talkin’ about a fuckin’ **school**. Anyhow, Carol said she’d come by later with Maggie, and then you’d make plans. Tried to boss me around some, said I gotta be here too.”

“Yeah, you should. Didn’t we **just** have this conversation?? ‘m too tired to repeat myself…”


	4. Day Five

Two days later, Daryl and Aaron left on a scouting trip before Rick woke up. Michonne brought this to his attention while cleaning her guns at the kitchen table. 

Rick felt the familiar twinge in his belly. He had all but ruled out the possibility of a crush on Aaron -- some stuff just didn’t add up, like Daryl liking them as a couple -- but still, Rick had a weird feeling about the whole situation. Something was off, and fuck if he knew what it was.

************************

Abruptly, Daryl raised his fist. Aaron stopped like he’d walked into a brick wall. Seconds passed, then Daryl waved forward.

“Walkers?” Aaron asked with a low voice.

“Dozen or so. Out of range now.”

The day had worn on quietly and uneventfully. They had seen no-one, heard nothing. Aaron had a feeling Daryl didn’t even mind. He seemed to enjoy just being there, alert for the sounds and scents of the forest. Aaron glanced at him, curious. Daryl never talked much, but it had now been five hours, and that right there had been more words than the rest of the day combined. 

Aaron had never expected to enjoy the gruff archer’s company so much. When you got over the shock of his rough manners, he was relaxing to be around. He didn’t ask for much, didn’t play mind games, didn’t hanker after power or status. He didn’t seem to care one way or the other for Aaron’s gayness -- never addressed it in any way, just accepted him and Eric as they were. It seemed that as long as you proved yourself trustworthy and let Daryl be who he was, he in turn accepted you, no questions asked.

Aaron had seen enough in his life to appreciate how rare this was. Even now, at the end of the world. 

It was an odd friendship they had going; odd but good. Once, Aaron had jokingly asked Eric if he was even a little bit jealous -- the hunter wasn’t bad-looking, after all. Eric had laughed, and said ‘no!’. 

Mock-offended, Aaron had demanded an explanation. “Why, sir, you don’t even find me attractive any more! Not good enough to please the tastes of Mr Dixon??” 

Smiling, Eric had nudged Aaron in the ribs. “I’ll show you how attractive I find you. Later. So behave!” 

Eric grew more serious. “No, you’re attractive enough, I’m sure, it’s just that I think nothing would make Daryl look at you or anyone else twice. I think….I’m guessing… his heart is taken. What I don’t know, however, is... does **he **know it is?”

Aaron had frowned at Eric. “Could you **be **more cryptic? You’d better elaborate. Chop-chop!”

Eric had absolutely refused to tell more of his suspicions. “You’re his friend. I don’t want to put ideas in your head, just in case I’m wrong. Don’t **think **I am, but a man’s got to stay humble, right? Pay attention, honey. Daryl’s quiet and restrained, but no spy-material. If you know to look, I’m sure you’ll notice it yourself.”

That had been weeks ago. Aaron had tried to pay extra attention but thus far, no results. The crux of the problem was that, when around other Alexandrians, what passed for normal for Daryl was abnormal in any other person -- like a negative of a photo. He didn’t enjoy being surrounded by strangers -- and “strangers” meant pretty much everyone else except Rick’s little group. He didn’t make eye contact easily; he never gravitated towards anyone in particular. Well, except for the members of their small group. Their “family”, like Rick said. Daryl never watched anyone longer than was necessary to ascertain whether they posed a threat, or were in danger themselves. He never spoke of or mentioned anyone more than any other. He never seeked physical contact of any kind with anyone.

Again, with the exception of their “family”.

Aaron felt something tickle his brain. He’d have to think about that some more.

They stopped for a late lunch after another hour of silence. Aaron watched Daryl pick on his sandwich. In his mind, he went through various ways of approaching the other man. 

_ What’s the matter? _ -He’d grunt “Nothin’”, and we’d be right where we started. 

_ Is everything ok? _ -”Yeah.” And that would be that. 

_ What’re you thinking? _ -”Stuff.” 

All these had been actual conversations, and Aaron wasn’t looking for a re-run.

Imagine his surprise, then, when it was Daryl who opened the discussion.

“You and Eric… how did ya know?”

“Know what?”

“That he’s the one?”

Aaron was nonplussed. Why was he asking stuff like that? They had told him how they met, during one evening after dinner, sharing a tiny portion of what was left of Eric’s good whisky.

“Well… it’s not like in the movies, like, you take one look at a person, and somehow magically Just Know… life’s too complicated for that. We got to know each other, at work like we told you, I was drawn to his personality, much lighter than my own, drew me out of my shell… at some point I just... just, realized that the way I kept looking at him wasn’t me looking at a good friend, it was me looking at something potentially much more. And, as it turned out he was thinking along the same lines, well, here we are.” 

Aaron smiled. “Ten years later, and we’re still together. I didn’t **know** he’d be ‘the one’ but I took a risk. **We** took a chance together, and man, did it pay off.”

A grunt acknowledged that Daryl had listened. He took a small bite out of his sandwich, chewed, swallowed, didn’t look up at Aaron.

“Can I ask you somethin’? Like, gay stuff?”

Aaron had a strong urge to snicker. Waves of ‘this is fuckin’ awkward!’ were emanating from the archer. However, Aaron had a pretty good idea of how difficult it must’ve been for him, to test the waters like that, about something very personal. Taking the risk of rejection.

“Sure.”

“When did ya realize you’re into guys?”

“Well, I’m not 100 percent **opposed** to women, so there’s that… Ok, so, my family wasn’t so much **against** gays, it’s just that gays didn’t **exist** in their world. If they ever said anything about the subject, it was always ‘it’s a phase’ kind of stuff. So, I grew up in a void of gayness, so to speak. It took me completely by surprise that I was attracted to guys. There I was, 14 years old, this new guy started in my class. Real looker, and such a nice guy too. We hit it off right away. Then this one time, he came for a sleepover. We were changing into pajamas, and I caught myself checking him out. If I remember correctly, that was the first real hard-on I got, you know, ‘real’ as in it happened because of a flesh-and-blood person right there, not just on a page of a magazine... It was so awful, it was **so** awkward, I was freaked out, and didn’t really know what the hell was happening. He never noticed anything, I think. Didn’t mention it, at least. We stayed good friends, and nothing ever happened. I got over my first gay crush in due course, but that’s when I noticed it. Took me years and years to get comfortable in my own skin.... My family didn’t help. To the last, they treated Eric like he was just a roommate. Very polite, highly skilled at ignoring stuff they didn’t want to acknowledge.”

Daryl listened, nibbling on his sandwich. Aaron considered the wisdom of asking him back, something like “Why do you want to know?”, but decided against it, as interesting as it would’ve been to hear the answer. **If** he answered, that is. So he waited. Would there be another question? A comment? Or, back to the silence?

“So… you wasn’t, like, born knowin’ it?”

“I wasn’t. Eric says he knew since he was yay high. It can be different. There’s no right or wrong. And to complicate matters, the expectations and attitudes of your surroundings can mess up your perception of yourself. Probably why it took me so long to realize. Also, I did like girls somewhat, which ensured that I was all-round confused.” 

Aaron smiled; Daryl was peeking at him through his bangs, so Aaron wanted to make absolutely sure Daryl knew his questions weren’t making Aaron mad or anything.

“’k.”

And that was the extent of Daryl’s reaction. Aaron didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

But, stupid he wasn’t. The direction of the questions made him count one plus one, and he strongly suspected the answer would be two. But, not his place to force the issue. Couldn’t be done with Daryl, anyways.

************************

Hours later, they were back in Alexandria. Aaron went straight home, showered, then went to the kitchen where Eric was chopping vegetables. He went over to give him a kiss. 

“Daryl coming to dinner? I’m making enough for us all.”

“I told him it’ll probably be an hour. I think he’ll be here soon.”

“You kids have fun playing outside?”

“Oh ha ha. I’ve walked eight hours. What does it take to get any respect around here? Me mighty warrior, urgh!”

Aaron paused for a moment.

“It was nice. Peaceful. Came across walkers only once; Daryl spotted them early so we just waited for them to walk by. We didn’t see anything else, so in a way a waste of time, but you never know so it’s got to be done.”

“Did you talk about anything interesting?

“Funny you should ask…”

Eric raised his head from the onions. “Yes yes, don’t stop now!”

“Honestly, I can’t tell you, it wouldn’t be right. However. I’ve been looking, like you told me to. Paying attention. Got absolutely nowhere for weeks, but after today… I think I’ve got at least a few pieces of the puzzle. -No, I’m not saying anything else! Put the knife down, Eric, down!!”

“Should I be worried?” An amused, gravelly voice came from the kitchen door. “Domestic violence, ain’t that just too sad.”

Aaron tried not to let the laughter die on his lips too conspicuously. Goddamnit, he hoped Daryl had missed the previous sentences.

Luck, it seemed, was on their side; Daryl had only heard something about a puzzle. As the couple very obviously didn’t want to go into specifics, Daryl wasn’t one to pry.

************************

Daryl didn’t stay long after dinner. It had been a tiring day, after all. Alexandria was quiet when he walked back home; people were spending the evening inside, or going to bed already, to get the most out of daylight the next day.

He sat down on the porch steps and dug in his pockets for a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, and sat there watching the stars. Trying not to think too much. Or at all. Can’t think all the time, he’d been doing way too much of that lately.

He heard the front door open behind him, familiar steps coming towards him. 

“You’re back.”

“Mmhm.”

“You just returned? This late?”

“Nah. Been back a few hours. Went over to Aaron’s after shower. Had dinner.”

Silence. 

“Ok.” 

Daryl pricked up his ears. That had sounded funny. Like ok wasn't ok.

“What? You alright?” That was the best he could do. Rick would tell him if he wanted to. Now he knew Daryl wanted to know.

Rick sat down beside him, shoulders brushing.

“I didn’t know you were leaving in the first place. You’re gone the whole fucking day and don’t come home until we’re all almost sleeping. Why didn’t you tell me?”

_Oh. Ok_.

“Rick, first, I’ve **been** home today, I came to shower and change. Ain’t hardly my fault none of you was here. Second, since when do I report to you every move I make?”

Daryl wasn’t angry, only a little mystified by Rick’s irritated voice.

He heard Rick swallow, hard. Heard him take a steadying breath.

“You’ve reported to me plenty of times. In prison, in here. But you’re right, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I sounded like a complete ass, didn’t I?” Rick let out a sad little chuckle.

Daryl nudged him with his shoulder. Gently. “Maybe it’s because you’re an ass?” he said in a friendly voice. He couldn’t hold a grudge, not for this. And he thought he got it. If Rick went off like that, not telling him, he’d come apart at the seams.

“I know you worry,” he continued. “Sorry.”

Rick nudged back. “It’s ok. You’re back alive and well, that’s the main thing.”

They looked at the stars together, the silence comfortable around them. Minutes flew by.

“What was for dinner?”

“Some vegetable and potato thing. ‘s ok. Eric likes to make those. You?”

“Carl got a few rabbits, we had quite a feast.” Rick paused. “I saved some for you, figured you might be hungry when you came back.”

Daryl noticed his hands suddenly clasping so tight his knuckles turned white, fingernails biting hard into his skin. His breathing had become shallow and quick -- _ what the fuck is this_, he thought, trying to stave off panic. He felt suffocated, lightheaded, cornered, desperate -- _ where the fuck did this come from? _

_Oh_. 

_ Fuck, fuck fuck. What do I do? _

It only took a few seconds for Rick to realize something was wrong. Daryl was panting and shivering. Rick’s first, terrified thought was: _he’s been bitten, this is the fever, this…_

And then his brain shut down. Did not compute. Would not compute those thoughts.

“Daryl… Daryl..?”

The hunter heard Rick’s voice, anxiously repeating his name. “Rick? What..?”

“Daryl, were you bit?” Rick was frightened. 

_That won’t do_.

“Nah. Just...don’t feel so good. What the fuck…”

“Ok, calm down.” Rick’s words were just as much for himself as they were for Daryl. “Come here,” he said, wrapping his arm around Daryl, drawing him close, keeping him warm.

_Grounding him._

Rick was taking care of him. _ Likely the cure’ll be deadlier than the disease. _

_Isn’t this just fuckin’ awesome?_

************************

In spite of Daryl’s feeble attempts at pushing Rick away, Rick insisted on half-carrying him upstairs. In truth, Daryl wasn’t sure he could’ve made the trip without crawling on hands and knees. The worst of it was over pretty quickly, but the _ whatever _ had left him dizzy. A feeling he didn’t remember ever having before, and not much enjoying his first go at it. Being helpless wasn’t something Daryl excelled in.

Rick helped him settle on his bed, sitting down beside him, taking his hand to check his pulse which was all over the place. Rick was a tactile person at all times, but tended to go overboard whenever one of his family members was in danger of any kind. Usually Daryl found it rather… sweet, in a way. Like Rick wanted to reassure himself his people were actually **there**, skins warm, hearts beating. Daryl had grown used to it, hell, learned some of it. Hugging Carol. Holding Judith. Hugging Rick. Being in Rick’s personal space whenever possible, just to… well, for reasons, apparently. To ensure Rick stayed safe, for one.

Now, Daryl pulled his hand away. “Enough,” he said quietly. “’s ok. Go to bed, you need your sleep.”

Rick watched him, eyes steady. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere until your heart-rate goes down to normal.”

_So you’ll be here a while, then._

“So stop being such a jerk and let me take care of you for once. You’re not above getting ill or some shit; I’m not about to let you faint on those stairs and break your neck. Wouldn’t that be ironical, the way the world is now, to die tripping on your own two feet. So shut up and relax, I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Couldn’t sleep anyways until I know you’re ok.”

An hour later, Rick was still there, eyes watchful, every now and then taking Daryl’s hand to check his pulse. Only the sounds of their breathing broke the silence. 

Daryl must’ve fallen asleep for a minute. Whatever else this was, it was **safe**. It was like it should be: the one watching the other’s back. He came to slowly, to comfort and security, feeling Rick’s eyes still on him, his hip pressed against his own on his narrow bed, his fingers again against his wrist. His thumb brushing his pulse point, around, and around, and around.

_Well, fuck._

Slowly, he pulled his hand away before Rick noticed his heart-rate react. He took great care to conjure up a reassuring smile on his face. Opened his eyes, concentrated on looking Rick in the eye. Said, “‘m ok now, really. So fuck off and let me sleep.”

Rick quirked a sceptical eyebrow but didn’t put up a fight. Stood up and walked to the door.

“Thanks, man.” Daryl’s voice so low it was barely audible.

“No problem, brother.”

The door closed behind Rick. Daryl stared at the ceiling, all sleepiness gone. 

_No problem, brother._

  
  



	5. Day Six

The morning came, inevitably. Daryl had been in and out of sleep; his eyes prickled after the lousy night. Other than that, the dizziness was gone, his heart pumped steadily… he felt fine. Absolutely fine. Just dandy.

He got up and padded to his bathroom. Turned on the light, did his business, walked over to the sink to wash his hands. He raised his head, looked at the mirror. Looked at what there was, in the mirror. Took one step back, to lean on the wall -- it was a tiny bathroom -- and kept looking at the thing. It. Himself.

Daryl had never liked what he saw in the mirror. Only ever used one when it was absolutely necessary. Like with shaving, on the rare occasions he did that. All his life, it had been made abundantly clear that he didn’t measure up. Too small, too quiet, too shy, too nothing. Thanks to his dad, he was also too scarred. The tiny amount of positive thoughts he had at one point had of his body had soon vanished, after the first time he dared be seen at a barbecue without his shirt on. The guys, they had mocked him. Laughed that he obviously couldn’t fight back. Suggested that maybe he got his kicks out of that stuff. 

Merle had said nothing. 

The girls Merle had invited had taken one look at him, and cringed.

He never made that mistake again. Never again did he think that there might be something worthwhile in him to look at.

The image in the mirror. A tired man. Bedraggled. Hair too long, too ungroomed, long wisps of hair covering his face. Lips too thin, mouth too crooked, cheekbones too high, and what was it with the eyes, anyway, too leery and furtive. Too much of everything, nothing quite like it should be.

He stared at his reflection. _ Anyone would be lucky to have you. _ He felt a caustic snort coming up, like a reflex. But he had promised himself he would think about what Rick had said. He’d been so angry. For him. So angry for Daryl’s sake. 

The man in the mirror stayed silent. He listened to the voices in his head, pulling him in opposite directions.

He heard Merle. _ Ain't nobody ever gonna care _ _ about you except me, little brother. Nobody ever will. _

_Just so you know, I liked you first. _ Carol had quipped but he did know it. He did know that Carol cared for him. 

_I’m no catch, and they knew it. _ Some had even said it out loud, no reading between the lines necessary.

Carol’s soft voice: _ You’re gonna have to learn to live with the love. _

_Anyone would be lucky to have you._

_Try to remember that you are interesting._

_‘Cause you just being you, that’s pretty damn _ ** _good_**_._

Words, all words. Daryl tuned in to his memories, watching the action. Which should speak louder, right?

Dad and his belt. Dad throwing him out, kicking him like a dog.

Girls cringing at his scars, giggling at his shyness. Guys looking down at their noses.

Spending weeks out in the woods, alone. Coming home to Merle’s surprised “you were gone?”.

Spending a few hours outside; Rick’s anger and worry. _ You’re gone the whole fucking day and don’t come home until we’re all almost sleeping. Why didn’t you tell me? _

Rick holding his wrist, monitoring his pulse, staying by his side for hours. _ You’re back alive and well, that’s the main thing. Couldn’t sleep anyways until I know you’re ok. _

Rick saving food for him.

Andrea’s ridiculous shot. Everyone taking care of him after, worried. _ You're every bit as good as them. _

Being asked to the prison council. Like they valued his opinion.

The little guy, Patrick, asking for his handshake, all giddy.

People relying on him, so many times he’d lost count.

Rick pleading him to stay. _ We need you. _

Aaron and Eric inviting him to their home, dozens of times. Wanting to have his company.

Rick looking at him, during fights or arguments, trying to decide which course to take. Daryl didn’t need the power but he knew. He’d witnessed it so many times. Rick looked for his nod or shake. Maybe not for decision -- more for a confirmation. That they were on the same page. That Rick **needed** him on the same page.

_You being back with us here, now, that's everything. You're my brother._

Being liked. It was like he’d said to Rick: sometimes he trusted in the knowledge, sometimes he didn’t.

But the evidence for being liked, being valued for himself, was starting to pile up. He’d just have to get over the bad days quicker. Remember the evidence from these few years.

He kept looking at the mirror. Still didn’t like what he saw. 

But, at the start, Carol had been interested in him. It had been horribly confusing but Daryl wasn’t stupid. And Carol had hardly been subtle. There were a few girls in Alexandria, who seemed to have an unhealthy interest in him when he was fixing his bike. Made him uncomfortable; but they wouldn’t seek him out if there was only disgust at play? Right? That was how it worked?

And not just that. People just kept **looking** at him. Without cringing or sneering. Waiting for him to talk, searching for his opinion. Just fucking **looking** at him **straight in the eyes**, because that seemed to be what people did, normally. Looked at each other, openly. Just because Daryl sucked at didn’t mean it wasn’t the done thing.

He hadn’t been asleep in the village. 

He had relaxed, knowing Rick was keeping watch, but he hadn’t been tired. He had been aware of his surroundings, watching lazily through his eyelashes, his bangs. And he had seen Rick turn to him, look at him, tilt his head, roam his eyes over him. What had been uncomfortable from the Alexandrian women, had simply felt… all different, coming from Rick. He had wondered about the gaze. Let it go on for minutes before talking. 

He still didn’t know what Rick had seen. He knew without a doubt that Rick’s answer had been a lie. Of the truth, he had no idea.

**Looking**, however. Let’s get back to the looking. Rick was a friend, a _ brother_. If a friend looked at you, without any reason, surreptitiously, just gliding his eyes over you, for minutes -- and how long would he had continued, had Daryl not spoken? -- would it be reasonable to assume that he would do that if he didn’t like what he saw, at all? Would Rick lie with his gaze?

He looked at himself, the man in the mirror. 

Apparently, others saw something he didn’t. Which voice, which eyes, did he choose to believe?

************************

Daryl was unusually reluctant to leave his room. On a regular day, he couldn’t wait to be up and about. Outside, if at all possible. 

He knew that some people thought he was a bit slow, just because he never spoke much, and when he did, he aimed at conveying his thoughts in as few words as humanly possible. But no, he wasn’t slow, or stupid -- he could think as well as the next guy.

He just didn’t like to very much. 

Especially now. It was like...the thoughts, they just kept coming, and his head was a jam-packed jumble of fucking **emotions**, and the emotions raised all sorts of fucking **questions** which he didn’t want to think about. Nothing good would come of it. But he couldn’t seem to stop the emotions, the unwelcome visions, the nagging little questions which insisted on being recognized and answered. 

The last time, out with Aaron, that had been the last straw. Yes, they had stopped to let the walkers go by but Aaron didn’t know that Daryl had been so deep in thought that only the last-second alarm from his hunter instincts had saved them from a potentially dangerous fight.

This shit had started to be not just annoying and distracting and somewhat depressing. No, it was starting to reach life-threatening levels. Something’s gotta give.

That had been the only reason Daryl had finally let out a few of those nagging questions. And Aaron had answered, which was all fine, except it didn’t solve anything, and Daryl still wasn’t any closer to putting a stop to all this thinking. Aaron’s answers had just confirmed his own thoughts, more’s the pity. All he had got out of it had been an even more profound sense of being neck-deep in shit. During the discussion his whole body had resonated with “I’m so screwed!”, so loud it almost, **almost** had made him laugh. 

He heard the door opposite open and shut, the sound of familiar steps go down the short hall, then down the stairs. He heard Rick’s “mornin’”, so someone else was up, too. Michonne probably, Carl tended to sleep in whenever possible. Daryl moved back to his bed, and sat down. Didn’t really feel like going downstairs to face Rick and his brotherly concern.

What was the point of thinking if there was no way it’d take you anywhere better?

What was the point of trying to figure things out, if there was no way this could never, ever, end well for him?

Wouldn’t it be better to go back to being oblivious of what he might be? Of what he felt?

Just go back to how things were? Could he, somehow, go back to that time, a second before he first realized that what he was feeling wasn’t exactly brotherly? One second, that would be enough. Before, he’d been blissfully unaware of things happening in his mind and heart, things building up just below the surface of his conscious mind. It had been so easy.

And then the surface cracked. In just one second, his freakin’ life went straight to hell in a handbasket.

If Merle were still alive, this would be the thing to kill him. With laughter.

“What a gloriously messed-up little brother I have! You know what's funny to me? You and Sheriff Rick are like _ this _ now. This here would explain a few things, now wouldn’t it, _ Darylina _ dear?! All them years I spent trying to make a man of you, this is what I get?”

And on, and on, and on. He heard Merle’s voice, and could imagine what he’d say. Hell, some of it he’d actually said. 

_No. Don’t listen to Merle. Listen to the others._ Carol, Rick, Michonne, Carl, Aaron -- liking him, accepting him. They wouldn’t treat him different, right? 

Daryl’s head hurt. Yet another sleepless night on top of this other stuff, not a good combination. 

He wasn’t going anywhere with this. There was nowhere **to** go, no solution, no happily ever after.

_You should have _ ** _someone_ ** _ to talk about stuff. You know, _ ** _this_ ** _ stuff. _ Rick’s voice.

Yeah, right. Talking was so overrated. What could anyone say that would make this...this **thing**, this **emotion**, go away? ‘Cause that was the only way. For it to just fucking **go away**! _ I’ve already lost one brother, don’t want to lose another one. And that would happen, it would! How do I make this stop? _

Last night’s feelings were scratching, knocking, demanding entrance. He didn’t want them back, not ever. The desperation, suffocation, being backed into a corner with no way out. He pressed the heels of his hands on his forehead, pressed so hard it hurt.

That helped some. Stopped the scratching at least. 

_I don’t know how to do this. _ How to make things go back? Then Rick would never need to know about the shit going on in Daryl’s head. What a fuck-up he had for a brother.

Knocking started again. This time, it wasn’t in Daryl’s head. Someone was at the door. 

“Daryl, you awake?”

_Get a grip, Dixon. _

“Yeah.”

Rick opened the door and came in, holding a mug of steaming hot coffee. 

“Figured you’d need this.”

“Figured right. Thanks, man.”

“Anytime. You get any sleep?”

“Some.”

“Like Michonne so eloquently put it some days ago: you don’t look so hot, Dixon. You’re not leaving the house today. I’m making you get some rest if it’s the last thing I do. Boss’s order: rest.”

“Not my thing.”

“Well, screw that. It’s time you got yourself some new _ things_.”

There had been playfulness behind Rick’s harsh words. Now he grew serious.

“Get real, Daryl. You’re never dizzy, you never shake like a leaf. That’s just not you, man. So **something** was wrong, maybe just a passing flu virus, maybe something you’d eaten. But it was not nothing, and you’re NOT going anywhere until I’m certain you’ve got enough rest.”

Daryl sipped his coffee, meeting Rick’s worried eyes. Rick hesitated but decided to go on.

“And I know something’s been bothering you. I’m hoping you remember I’ll always listen to you. I’m here for you, like you’ve been here for me so many times. I don’t know if I can help you with whatever it is but I’d sure like to try. You’ve got that haunted look even now. Please, let me help.”

_There, I said it. _ Rick saw Daryl lower his eyes, face unreadable once again.

“Ain’t nothin’ you can do. Thanks anyways. Gotta work this out on my own.”

“Why?” Such a simple question, but it made Daryl look at Rick again.

“_Why_?” Daryl sounded baffled. “Just… because! Gotta find the answers myself. Ain’t nobody gonna give them to me ‘cause they ain’t ME. Not everything’s ok if you just ‘talk about it’.” The sneer was dismissive of the mere idea. That somehow made Rick feel even worse. “There’s…. just, stuff, you know, in my head. Gotta straighten it out.”

Now it was Rick who was baffled. “But where did this all come from? What happened? We’ve known each other for, what, almost two years. You’ve never been like this, not even when real bad things were happening all the fucking time. Now it’s been ok for weeks and weeks, and you’re in the middle of an existential crisis, apparently, and I just don’t understand what triggered it off.”

Rick walked over to Daryl and sat on the bed. Turned towards him and hugged him, just like that.

“I worry, ok. Please, please let me help.”

_It’s funny_, Daryl thought, mind clear like glass right at that moment. _ It’s funny, the way this is so much like before, and so different. At the same time. The same act, different and the same. _

Rick was always hugging, always touching, always making certain his family knows he loves them, not with words so much, but using touch, a squeeze on your shoulder, a pat on your back, an arm around you.

Daryl had got used to it. Gone from ‘get your hands off me!’ to welcoming the touch. Sometimes even initiating it. With Rick, with the family.

So, it was the same. But then the fucking surface had cracked, and things had crawled out, and now the hug was different. 

Except it wasn’t different for Rick.

_I don’t know how to do this. And yet I have to do something. Fumble along._

He relaxed into Rick’s hug, put his arm around his waist. ‘Cause that was what he did, before, so that was what he’d do, now. For Rick, this had to be The Same. He need never know. Would only make things too awkward. They spent so much time together. Worked together, fought together. LIVED together, for god’s sake! And Daryl was aware of how he was perceived by others: as the second-in-command for Rick. 

_Can’t mess that up, just because a grown man can’t fuckin' keep his emotions where they belong. This is my problem, not Rick’s. Rick needs someone nice, and warm, and stable. And someone who’s, you know, **female**._

Daryl was prepared to believe the evidence of past years: of people liking and respecting him. He’d try to hold on to that even on the bad days; he’d try to get better at it. 

But let’s get real: that right there were four major strikes against him. No way around it. 

Feeling safe in Rick’s arms, still tightly wrapped around him, and feeling liked and warm and appreciated, and all kinds of other emotions which had no business being there, Daryl almost snorted out loud. _ My life’s a fuckin’ reality show. _

“This is helping,” he said quietly. Well, it was and it wasn’t, but no need to go into the bitter-sweet portion of it with Rick. He gave himself permission to relax a little bit more, melt just a tiny bit more into Rick, _ because why the hell not, I’m screwed either way. _

************************

Rick was worried. Daryl was leaning into him, relaxing so goddamn slow. He did put his arm around Rick’s waist, he did move just a bit, to get closer. But something was off; it was like Daryl was there, hot against him, and yet he wasn’t, not really. He was keeping his distance from Rick, not looking in his eyes, refusing even to give a hint at the thing that was bothering him. What could be so serious? Rick racked his brains. Came up with nothing. 

Enough. Time to be the officer of the law and go logical: process of elimination, no matter what. Time to be the leader he was supposed to be, and not pussyfoot around Daryl. The man needed more help than he realized, and it was Rick’s responsibility to be there for him.

“This is helping.” He heard Daryl’s soft words, felt him edge closer. Slowly, Daryl laid his head on Rick’s shoulder, very lightly. Rick leaned his head on his, breathed in his scent, all thoughts momentarily evaporated, immersing him in the physical sensations. Daryl’s lean, strong body, his arm tightening on Rick’s waist, his hair tickling Rick’s skin.

Rick didn’t remember when he had last been so content.

They sat there, quietly, holding each other. Daryl’s coffee grew cold; Rick wouldn’t’ve dreamt of breaking the peaceful silence to point that out. They’d make some more, later. 

Then the weirdest thing happened. Rick felt himself tense up. His stomach tightened, his heart beat faster, Daryl’s fingers on his waist burnt impossibly hot through the thin fabric. Puzzled, Rick decided to think about that later -- this here was supposed to be about Daryl, not Rick, so he forced himself back to reality. _ Elimination, here we come. _

“Can I ask you something?”

Rick was so tight against Daryl, he felt his muscles tense up, his body grow alert. 

“Mmhm.”

Rick took that as a yes, although not a resounding one. He tried to keep his voice as non-committal as possible.

“Back at the barbecue, I noticed you watching Aaron and Eric a lot. I mean, a **lot**. You spend a lot of time with them, especially Aaron. Now, yesterday night happened just after you had returned from a day trip with Aaron and then spent the evening with them. Again. So I was just wondering if whatever’s bothering you has something to do with them? Or one of them?”

To his infinite surprise, Daryl relaxed again. His body vibrated briefly against Rick’s side, as if Daryl had chuckled inwardly. _ I gather the answer is no. Ok then, one down and nothing to go. No other theories whatsoever. “When you have eliminated the impossible__, _ _ whatever remains__, however improbable, _ _ must be the truth,” Holmes had said, right? But what do you do if _ ** _nothing_ ** _ remains? _

“Nah. They don’t bother me none. They’re nice people. Aaron’s my friend. Isn’t that good? You said you can’t have too many friends nowadays.”

Rick didn’t know what to think. Mr Holmes inside his head was baffled as well. He noticed he was absentmindedly stroking his friend’s shoulder with his fingers. Round and round in a small circle. 

“Why do you even ask? Why would Aaron or Eric have anything to do with my...whatever?”

Rick cleared his throat, glad that Daryl’s head was still on his shoulder so he couldn’t see Rick’s face.

“Nothin’, nothin’...just tryin’ to figure out what’s goin’ on with you. You spend so much time with Aaron, I just thought it’s a logical place to start.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” said Daryl, voice flat and unyielding, putting a stop to any other questions Rick might have on the subject.

“Coffee got cold,” he continued. “Hope there’s more downstairs.”

“Wanna come down now?”

Pause.

“Yeah.”

Rick was surprisingly reluctant to let go of his friend but Daryl pulled his hand back and slowly raised his head.

“Daryl?”

The man turned his head. He hadn’t probably realized how close they still were, and there he was, face only inches away from Rick. He saw the look in Daryl’s eyes change in a heartbeat, from peaceful to frightened. The archer pulled back like a flash, fast enough that some of the coffee from the mug splashed on his hand.

“Lucky it got cold.” Daryl’s voice was shaky, almost imperceptibly so but Rick knew the range of his tones, and this was shaky. Cogs in his brain clicked and whirred: Daryl’s voice did **not **shake, except in cases of exceptional near-death situations. The aftermath of Joe and his gang came to mind.

There was nothing here to provoke such reaction, was there?

_When you have eliminated the impossible__, _ _ whatever remains__, however improbable, _ _ must be the truth. _And then it hit him. The tension, the avoidance, the deers-in-the-headlights...

_It must be me. I must have done something to cause this. _

_I have no idea what to do now. _

“Rick, man? You were gonna say somethin’?”

“Yeah… just… sorry, for the questions you know…. just trying to help.”

Daryl was standing at the door. _ When did he get there? _ Rick had lost a few seconds in the confusion.

The hunter had his usual guarded expression on, tempered just a bit by a faint smile. “You’re helping. You’re here.”

And he was gone, feet padding in the hall and down the stairs. Dumbfound, Rick rose up and followed him. Thinking.

  
  


************************

A few hours later, Daryl was lounging in the living room, reading comics that Carl had obligingly brought. Rick had gone out, he had a watch for four hours, so Daryl had a much-needed respite. He didn’t have too much time to think though -- not that he necessarily wanted any -- as Michonne kept going in and out and insisted on chatting with him whenever she popped her head in the living room. Carol was in the kitchen, baking, though Daryl had no idea why she couldn’t do it in her own house. Not that he minded -- she brought him fresh buns, which made this intrusion ok.

By mid-afternoon, Daryl was going out of his mind. He had cleaned the crossbow, his guns, Rick’s and Michonne’s and Carl’s guns, read half a dozen comic books, and eaten the leftover rabbit from the fridge. He was standing on the back porch, eyeing the garden longingly, when a stern voice came from the hall: “Oh no you don’t! I told you not to leave the house until I say you’ve rested enough.”

Rick stepped beside him, eyes bright and friendly. “So, HAVE you been resting?”

“I’ve stayed inside,” Daryl answered.

“Not really an answer but ok. I see you’ve been busy with the guns.”

“Had to do somethin’.”

Rick grew serious. “How’re you feeling? And be honest.”

“Mmhm. ‘m fine.” Rick turned to look at him sharply. “Oh come on, Rick! Whatcha want me to say? Can’t make it any clearer than that. I’m fine. I’m not dizzy, I’m not shakin’, I’m not hurtin’ anywhere. I’m FINE.”

Daryl was not above begging at this point. “Let me out, for fuck’s sake. The garden at least.”

Rick looked at him. His eyes were impenetrable, and to make matters worse (or better, depending on the definition), he put his hand on Daryl’s shoulder, almost to his neck, like he wanted to reassure himself of Daryl’s sturdiness, with his own fingers.

Rick’s fingers. Warm, touching his skin above Daryl’s t-shirt’s neckline. The hunter shivered, he couldn’t help it, _ I’m so fucking screwed _.

Rick’s eyes cleared, he smiled, just a bit hesitatingly. “I was gonna ask if you want to come along, I thought I’d circle the fences and it’s a lonely job without any company. If you’re feeling up to it?”

“Just tell me when we leave.”

Rick chuckled. “Right away.” 

Rick’s hand was still burning on his skin. As casually as possible, Daryl took hold of it and put it down. Rick didn’t resist, didn’t react. Just had this weirdly unreadable expression which made Daryl slightly nervous. And that made him forget some things. Like, he was still holding Rick’s hand. This time Daryl had a firmer grip on his nerves; he only voiced a little huff, and let go. _ Shouldn’t be too awkward, right? Rick’s always touching anyways. Right? _

He turned to go, sensing Rick’s gaze following him. He was halfway to the coffee table in the living room where his crossbow rested when Rick’s voice reached him. “Aaron invited us to dinner tonight.”

_Fuck_.

“Who’s us?”

“You and me.”

_Fuck fuck._

_Triple-fuck._

“What’re we waiting for then? Let’s get going so we’ll be back in time. Eric’s a mild guy but he’s pissed if people are late. And then Aaron is pissed at whoever gets Eric pissed.”

If Rick hadn’t been watching, Daryl would’ve pat himself on the back for managing to sound so goddamned normal. He had a really bad feeling about this.

************************

To the immense but pleasant surprise of both men, the walk along the fence was relaxing. Out in the open, with jobs to do, with mild physical exercise, all the tension evaporated to the crisp afternoon air. They talked with low voices about the training project (Rick had finally abandoned the word ‘school’) and the routine scouting trip, circling Alexandria, the next day. Aaron was supposed to go with Daryl, as agreed before, and Rick was grudgingly admitting that Daryl looked well enough for it. 

They reached home and agreed to leave in fifteen. “Shower and change!” shouted Rick from his room, and Daryl submitted to the inevitable and headed for his own bathroom.

************************

In the shower, Rick scrubbed his scalp and wished that the invigorating massage could extend all the way to his brain. 

He’d been like a dreamwalker most of the day. During his watch at the main gate he had had ample time for thinking, but it had brought no results. He racked his brains trying to remember _ something_, some argument, some fight, some old grievance, that could possible had brought about this change in Daryl. After four hours, he still got nothing. While he was walking back home, Aaron intercepted him and made the invitation. Rick said ‘yes’, of course he did, but he was a bit surprised. They were friendly but not dinner-friendly, so to speak. From their little family, only Daryl had that relationship with them. Why Rick was invited as well... what’s another mystery, right?

One step in the house, Rick almost burst out laughing. _ Poor guy! _ He saw the guns spread around, smelled the gun oil, noticed the restless figure standing at the back door. He strolled towards his friend...

...and blacked out there for a second, again. No other way to describe it. His mouth kept moving, asking questions about Daryl’s well-being, but on the inside...like he wasn’t there. The way he looked at his friend wasn’t _ him_. Someone else was touching Daryl because the tingly feeling at his fingertips sure didn’t belong to _ him_. The man sensing the hunter’s shiver absolutely wasn’t _ him_.

And for a few heartbeats, they stood there, holding hands.

_What in seven hells is happening? _

It got better, more normal, when they were outside. Like it always was: peaceful and friendly, talking at times, staying comfortably silent at others. Rick felt like himself again. 

Rick turned off the shower and reached for the towel. Amused at himself, he shook his head. _ Maybe I got the same bug Daryl had. Temporary insanity flu. I’m glad it’s gone now. Daryl’s spooked enough with me as it is. _

************************

To Daryl’s suspicious mind, Aaron and Eric were conspicuously natural. He knew that Rick wondered why he was invited; Daryl had his doubts -- _ should never have spoken to Aaron, and now they’re trying to be oh so goddamned clever! I’ve got to get me some stupider friends... _

However, Rick asked nothing, and the couple offered no explanation. Other than that, it wasn’t so bad. It was nice, in fact. Decent food, good company, the latter meaning that they let Daryl be silent, observant, never pushing for him to talk but listening to him carefully whenever he reckoned he might have something worthwhile to share. _ Doesn’t get any better than this_, he thought, letting himself relax.

Aaron wanted to walk them home, claiming he needed the fresh air. Which was all very fine, until the clumsy idiot tripped over a hole in the pavement and sprained his ankle. Not life-threatening, of course, but obviously pissed him off royally. Daryl and Rick helped him back home and left him in Eric’s capable hands. Just as they were stepping back outside, Aaron cursed. 

“Daryl!”

“Yeah?” Daryl turned his head to look at the pale man.

“This fucking ankle means I fucking can’t leave with you tomorrow to the fucking perimeter check-up.”

“Language, honey,” Eric commented mildly.

“No problem,” intervened Rick. “I don’t have anything tomorrow, I can go with Daryl.”

Eric turned away and tried to control a sudden coughing fit. Daryl felt a strong urge to go kick his butt.

“That’s a fucking excellent plan,” commented Aaron. “This’ll take days until I’m fit for scrambling all around woods and shit.”

Rick looked at him, amused at Aaron’s string of curses, so out-of-the-ordinary for the man. 

Michonne was still up when they got home, reading in the living room. Daryl hovered there for a minute, then “‘m just...gonna go. Early start tomorrow, ok?”

“Yeah.” Rick followed him with his eyes. Michonne, in turn, watched Rick like a hawk. When Daryl was out of earshot, “What’s with you two?”

“What?” Rick turned to Michonne. “Nothing’s with us two. How so?”

Frustrated, Michonne put away the book. “Don’t you think I don’t notice that you two aren’t exactly acting normal? Daryl is even twitchier than usual, and you… I don’t know where you go. Lost somewhere inside your head. Except that your eyes are always on him.”

Rick frowned. _ Were they? _

Rick sat down. _ Maybe it would help to talk to someone about this? _

“Something’s wrong with Daryl, been for a while now. I’m just trying to solve the puzzle. For a several days I thought, well, never mind what I thought, turns out I was wrong.” Rick paused, didn’t know where to fix his eyes. “I think it’s me. I think there’s something I’ve done which bothers Daryl and creates this….this strain. It’s not there always, it’s ok when we work. But other times… it’s like Daryl is uncomfortable around me, and I don’t know why. I’ve tried to think back, find a reason, but I’ve got nothing.”

“Haven’t thought about asking him?”

“Very funny… YES I’ve thought about asking him. Came close one time, that was when I managed to rule out my first guess. After that, Daryl’s not exactly been sending ask-me-anything vibes…”

“The vibes he’s sending sure don’t fall into that category. But if you’re looking for those I’d say don’t hold your breath. It’s not like Daryl sends those even in the best of circumstances.”

“I know. But you don’t know what it’s like… we’re usually so comfortable around each other. Now, it’s like he senses when I’m about to even THINK about asking something personal, and he just...just pulls up shutters around himself. And it’s really weird the way he sometimes shudders when I, like, hug him or something, like he’s spooked by it. It’s not like it’s something I haven’t done a million times before, with you all!, but these past days he’s been just...odd about it.”

Rick considered telling Michonne about Daryl’s “fit”, or his own blackouts, but for some reason that felt uncomfortable. And he had a feeling he’d have to think hard what Michonne meant with “the vibes he’s sending”. But before he had a chance to ask Michonne to elaborate, he felt her eyes on him.

Michonne didn’t stare. She glared.

“Ohmygod. Ohmygod. I do **not** usually resort to this but have to now. Please take this with the strongest possible vocal emphasis when I say,” Michonne closed her eyes, breathed in and out very flamboyantly, opened her eyes, and said, with clear enunciation, “MEN.”

Rick felt like he’d been dropped into the rabbit hole. What the everlovin’ FUCK was the matter with freakin’ EVERYONE???

“Don’t even ask. I just… I can’t even… ohmygod.” Shaking her head, Michonne stood up and stomped upstairs into her room, leaving Rick with his thoughts. Not a pleasant company by any means.

  
  



	6. Day Seven

A thorough perimeter check took usually two to three days, most of it done with a car, some of it requiring a certain amount of “scrambling all around woods and shit”, as Aaron had put it. September was turning into October -- probably, although even the Alexandrians with their steady lives weren’t completely certain of dates anymore -- but the weather was still comfortable.

The first few hours they drove in silence. Whenever Daryl wasn’t scanning the surroundings, Rick saw from the corner of his eye Daryl glancing at him. Time and again. Rick held his gaze firmly dead ahead. This had got to stop.

The day wore on. There were a few sightings, nothing to worry about. No people. Late in the afternoon, they came to a place where they had to abandon the car and start trekking. Halfway through the path there was, they knew, a small cottage, maybe some kind of a hunter’s cabin, and they had plans to stay the night there if the cottage was still ok. Night was falling when they arrived. It was still there, abandoned, walker-free. The tiny cottage had huge windows; inside, a few narrow bunk beds, a table, some chairs, a kitchenette, and a cupboard. 

Rick had planned to get Daryl to talk that evening, but in spite of the day having gone without a hitch and everything being fairly ok, the archer had put up walls almost rivalling the ones he’d had two years ago. Rick wondered if the vibes Michonne had mentioned had been these: DON’T-ask-me-anything. Glumly, he decided to postpone it -- but just until tomorrow. _ This is driving me nuts. I want to know what’s wrong so I can apologize and have our relationship back. _


	7. Day Eight

Rick awoke to a hand landing on his mouth. His eyes cracked open -- it was already light outside, sun streaming in through the large windows. Daryl was hunched beside him, alert, a finger on his mouth. Slowly, Rick turned his head. Outside, a huge herd was stumbling near the house. Rick’s skin prickled: they were wide open to an attack if the walkers noticed them. The herd could push through the windows easily and just walk in. Daryl took his hand away and pointed to the floor, under the bed. He rolled under it, slow and fluid. Just as slowly, though probably not as gracefully, Rick turned and flung himself under the bed as well. 

There was hardly room for one grown man, let alone two. They squirmed to settle on their side -- to try to see out the window and follow the passing of the herd -- as best as they could, but the space was too tight, and Rick ended up half on top of Daryl’s front. He felt Daryl’s breath on his neck and then on his ear as the man reached even closer to whisper “Stay still...one already tried to peer in.”

The herd seemed to be endless, hundreds of them, shuffling here and there, passing so goddamn slow. Daryl moved a bit, looking for a better position. Grunted impatiently with a low voice. Drew himself backwards, against the wall. Put his hand over Rick’s waist, and pulled him back as well. _ Good move_, Rick thought, _ more difficult to notice us the further back we are. _

Problem was, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His skin prickled again, for reasons quite unrelated to the passing herd of walkers. Daryl’s hand on his belly burned like hell, and his thin t-shirt was no barrier at all.

_Oh, come ON... Now??? Really???_

He gave up.

Rick knew the feeling. It had happened before, was part of being human, and especially familiar to every single police officer everywhere: the feeling of pieces suddenly falling to their place, like a puzzle forming on its own. Subconscious having done its work, it leaned back, satisfied, and watched the disaster unfold. Rick wanted to slap his no-good subconscious so, so hard. What a time and what a place for it to finally hand over the report.

Daryl was so fucking CLOSE. His nose was buried in Rick’s hair, the warm puffs sending ripples on Rick’s skin, like ricochets bouncing every which way. A walker bumped into the window, and Daryl reflexively tightened his grip on Rick.

Rick’s face flushed like a fucking teenager. This would’ve been a great opportunity to have a shrieking panic attack -- _ I’m fucking attracted to my _ ** _best friend_**_, eeeeeek! _ \-- but Rick felt only weary acceptance. _ I’ve been attracted to people before, I should’ve seen this coming. Even though I’ve never been attracted to men before -- still, I should’ve known. Attraction is really not that different a feeling, be it for a woman or a man. Ain’t this a fucking fresh hell… _

He could hardly go away right now. He couldn’t get any physical distance, what with the walkers outside. On the other hand, this was **Daryl**. Being so close shouldn’t suddenly be a problem. Physical proximity was nothing new, not after all those nights before prison. Rick never shied away from touch, and Daryl had seemed to get used to it. Even crave it, in his roundabout way, patting on his belly, hugging him, bumping shoulders, generally always being within Rick’s personal space whenever possible, leaning into his touch, holding his hand…

_...Oh_.

A completely new, 1000 piece puzzle rattled into place in a rapid toc-toc-toc.

_Ok_.

That would explain quite a lot.

Not only Daryl’s behavior, but also the behavior of their so-called friends. _ Adding them to the list of things that deserve to be slapped_, Rick thought, and NOW the need for hysterical laughter tried to bubble to the surface.

Walkers were still milling around. Daryl kept holding him tight, and Rick sensed the waves of Daryl’s protective instinct swirl around him. Rick felt such affection -- that was so like Daryl, always looking out for the people he loved, in his quiet, unassuming way.

_If I’m right… _ Rick **willed ** himself daring. _ It’s _ ** _Daryl_**_, for god’s sake, time to stop being scared._

So Rick relaxed. Positively melted under Daryl’s touch, into his chest. Turned his head just a little, to feel Daryl’s breath on his cheek. He heard Daryl’s breathing stutter, his hand tighten even more over Rick’s suddenly yielding body. “You ok back there?” he whispered.

“Yeah.” A low purr tickling his cheek. Goddamn how his senses prickled all over. _ I’ll NEVER get over the fact that I didn’t realize this sooner, this thing about myself, but there’ll be time later to kick myself in the butt. _

“Me too.” Pause. _ You’re the fearless leader, right? Go on, jump! _ “I’m always ok with you. I just wish I’d realized sooner just **how **ok I am when I’m with you.”

_That’s it. _ All things considered, there was no way Daryl could not get his meaning.

Pause.

“Is that so?” Three tiny gravelly words, conveying a range of undertones. Rick’s mind was working overtime, frantically analysing and making a list, suddenly back in tune with Daryl, after these endless days of Daryl-illiteracy. Wary, hopeful, uncertain, incredulous, and...and...and **turned on**. 

_Ohdeargod…_

Daryl pressed impossibly close, leaned his face even further, brushing Rick’s cheek. Lips almost touching the corner of Rick’s mouth, he whispered again, “Is that so?”

The undertone this time: Daryl was giving him one last out. A chance for Rick to chuckle, and with a light “sure, nothing better than facing walkers with my best friend” send this whole thing hurtling back into the friendzone.

_Thanks, but no thanks_, Rick thought, and turned his head another half an inch, and whispered straight into Daryl’s mouth, “That so.”

************************

Daryl wasn’t panicking. The time for that was over. His heart was pumping like crazy. He was burning hot, and tingly, and so, so turned on. And yet he’d rarely felt so at home. _ I mean, this is _ ** _Rick_**_. _ His best friend -- that hadn’t changed. If Daryl was reading this right (_and I am, yes, I know I am_), apparently not his ‘brother’ any more, but still. Brother-in-arms -- that part hadn’t changed either.

Insecurity, fear of rejection, of not being good enough. Those feelings hadn’t gone away, but oooh-boy, was this one A Good Day! There was no mistaking the way Rick’s body relaxed into his. No mistaking his words, the tone of his whisper, the way he fucking **offered ** his cheek to Daryl’s lips. And then Rick’s mouth was **there**, a hair’s breadth away, tempting Daryl to close that tiny distance.

Daryl had no frame of reference, no idea, really, how the first kiss was supposed to go. He went with his instincts, like he usually did. Closing the tiny distance, lips meeting lips. The low gasp from Rick, his own heart missing a beat. Daryl had no idea what to expect, what it meant to breathe in someone else’s breath, taste his lips, feel the lick of his tongue on your own lips. Rick’s stubble scratching his cheek, then the skin on his neck -- was it supposed to make him even more turned on? Because it was, _ ohmyfuckinggod_.

When they finally stopped to catch their breath, Rick had turned completely towards Daryl, and the walkers appeared to have disappeared. _ Well, that hadn’t been a shining example of vigilance. _

And, oh yes, Daryl was painfully hard.

Rick was touching his face. Brushing, caressing, following the forms of Daryl’s cheekbones with his fingers, swiping slowly over his lips with his thumb, scraping his nails over his stubble. Like he couldn’t get enough. Daryl remembered seeing cats petted, and the felines closing their eyes out of sheer pleasure. He thought he knew what it felt like, now. If he could’ve purred, he would’ve. Rick’s finger glided feather-light over Daryl’s eyelid, drew his eyebrow, and dove into his hair, threading his fingers through the dark locks. And then Rick’s mouth was on him, kissing his nose and cheeks and eyebrows and mouth, going lower, nipping his throat, sucking at his pulse point. Daryl’s fingers convulsed on Rick’s waist, crumpling his t-shirt, drawing it up from under his waistband, then hesitating. Rick grabbed Daryl’s hand and unceremoniously pushed it under his shirt.

“You can touch me. Please.”

It felt like losing your mind, a little. Losing control. Being a glutton for touch, getting lost in sensations. At some point they had bumped their heads on the underside of the bed once too many times, and took the show on the bed, without ever letting go of each other. Daryl pinned Rick on the bed, sucking on his neck and raking his fingers down his body. Rick flipped them over and settled on him, eyes wild, lips swollen. Then he stopped, closed his eyes, trying to calm down apparently. Eyes still closed, Rick kissed him, calmly, slowly. He pressed his forehead to Daryl’s and breathed deeply.

“What do you want, Daryl?”

“Thought that was obvious.”

Low chuckle.

“No, I mean what do you want to do _ right now?_” Slowly, very deliberately, Rick rolled his hips down, showing Daryl just what kind of _ doing _ he meant. Daryl couldn’t stop the groan, the two arousals touching was too pleasurable for words. He was drunk, from the nearness of Rick, from the knowledge that Rick was mussed, and turned on, and going just as crazy as he was, and _ he _ had been the cause. He. Un-fuckin’-believable.

Lying there, under Rick, feeling him roll his hips a second time, Daryl felt dizzy. Good dizzy.

“Daryl...you gotta say somethin’. Ain’t exactly got practise with this kind of...thing, you know.” 

“Well I ain’t got practise with any sort of _ thing _ so you got me there,” Daryl said bluntly. 

Rick just looked at him. “I don’t know what’s wrong with people. I mean, just _ look _ at you.” Rick’s eyes roamed over Daryl’s face with a mixture of tenderness and lust. 

Daryl pressed his hands on Rick’s lower back, hard, and pushed his hips up.

“Jesus… Daryl, that what you want?” Rick’s question, thick and aroused and nervous and excited.

Daryl brought his other hand up, tangled his fingers in Rick’s thick hair, and pulled him down, answering him with a kiss and another roll of his hips.

Losing your mind. Lost in time. Hands everywhere. Daryl’s hands pushing down on Rick’s butt, feeling the muscles tensing, _ Jesus fuckin’ Christ_….Rick’s hand crumpling Daryl’s shirt up, up, raking his fingernails over his side, over his nipple, pinching it -- and that was it. Daryl held his breath, body rigid, cock pulsing and sending nerve signals fuckin’ **everywhere**, and his heart stopped, right, it couldn’t take pleasure like this, right? Somewhere through the haze in his brain he heard Rick groan and felt him spasm, and it was so fuckin’ overwhelming.

_So this is what all the fuss about sex is for._

They lay there, panting. Rick was heavy, and crushing Daryl, but he wasn’t made of glass. It felt good. Daryl’s hands were moving on their own, caressing Rick’s back. A bout of self-consciousness took him by surprise and made him snatch his hands away.

“Don’t stop.” Rick’s quiet plea was enough to drive away the confusion. Daryl’s hands were back where they belonged. Time passed, or stood still -- who cared? Daryl had his fingertips on Rick’s skin, and Rick had his lips all over Daryl’s face. Who cared about what the fucking time did?

************************

Rick’s head lay on his hand by Daryl’s face, his hair tickling Daryl’s cheek. Rick chuckled. “Haven’t come in my pants since I was 13.”

Daryl said nothing. Felt his mouth quirk in a small smile, though. _ Ok, so this _ ** _was_ ** _ a little funny. _ Two grown men, no, scratch that, two fucking _ middle-aged _men, rutting like teenagers.

_Well, this is the way we roll, and fuck everyone else._

“You got another pair with ya?”

“Learned from the one time I fell into that mud hole, so yeah. You?”

“No mud holes, just precaution. So yeah.”

They got up. Rick made a face. “Amazing how something so great can feel just so _ sticky _ afterwards.”

They took off their jeans and underpants. Used some of their water to wipe away the worst, and put on clean clothes. During all this, Daryl got more self-conscious by the minute. The glow was dimming, insecurity was knocking and demanding entrance, and _ what if Rick regrets this already, I mean, what’re the odds of him NOT regretting this...this...misstep, this slip-up...it’s adrenaline and danger, that’s all it was_.

Rick felt good. He didn’t remember when he’d last felt so good, physically and emotionally. He reached for his gun belt, glancing at Daryl who was pulling on his boots, sitting on the bed, eyes on the floor, looking inwards. The archer’s thoughts were written all over his face -- the worry, uncertainty, disbelief, failure.

_This needs immediate action. Fuck if I’m gonna let him wall up again. _ Rick took the few steps, and knelt down in front of Daryl. The archer looked up, surprised. Rick put his hands on Daryl’s cheeks, held his face, brushed his thumb gently over his upper lip and mustache, lips still swollen from all the kissing. _ I did that_, Rick thought, _ and I wanna do it again. So I’d better find the right words now._

“We’re friends, right, Daryl?” 

The other man nodded. 

“So you trust me?” 

Another nod. 

“Good.” Rick paused for a moment. “I hope you don’t regret what just happened because I sure don’t. Oh God no! The only thing I regret is that it didn’t happen much earlier. That it took a cramped space underneath a bed, surrounded by walkers, to make us get over ourselves.” 

Daryl’s eyes were watchful, drinking up Rick’s words, looking out for any signs of half-truths or outright lies. 

_Ok then, no holding back. _“You know I love you, right? That’s not news to you, right? You gotta know I love you and that I’ve loved you for a long time. Yes, as a friend, my best friend, and my family. But that’s no lesser love, and I don’t even have to tell you that, I know you know it.”

Daryl leaned his elbows on his thighs, pressed his forehead against Rick’s, and Rick was hopeful.

“I don’t know why it took me so long to get here. All I know, it’s been a long time coming. At least, if I think about how strong my reactions have been during this past week -- a long story, for another day. 

I don’t… don’t expect anything from you. Maybe you do regret this, or maybe this here today was all you wanted and nothing more. I only want what you’re willing to give me. But I want you to know, just so you have all the facts...that I love you. It’s nothing new, it’s nothing you haven’t had from me for a long time now, it’s the same ol’ love, it’s just… it’s with a new twist. A new level.

But whatever you decide you want, please believe I don’t regret this happened. If you want to step out of that door as just friends, I can do that, and we’ll never need to talk about this again. But if it’s more you want… you should know it’s already yours.”

Rick felt stupid, like an old-fashioned romance hero. His penchant for rhetoric sometimes got the better of him. But his conscience was clear: every single word was 100 % from his heart. Daryl could be the strong and silent type, but he was uncannily talented at spotting bullshit, which generally made him an excellent judge of character. Nothing else would convince him except the truth, if even that. For the hundredth time, Rick felt a violent urge to go punch those mean, heartless dregs of humanity who had surrounded Daryl for most of his life, and made him doubt everything and anything, himself included.

Daryl pulled back, took Rick’s hands in his, pulled him up and pat on the bed beside him. Rick sat down, close enough that their shoulders were touching. Daryl’s bangs were again covering his eyes, and this time Rick didn’t brush them off. Maybe the other man needed that small bit of privacy now.

The hunter sat silent for a long time, eyes fixed on his hands, fingers moving restlessly around each other. Then he straightened up, just a bit, drew a quick breath, brushed a part of his fringe behind his ears. Still didn’t look up, let alone at Rick.

“More.” The low growl was barely intelligible. Rick’s ridiculous teenaged heart skipped a beat.

“More?”

“‘s what I said,” he grunted.

“It’s yours,” Rick said. The wonder of “oh God I’m in love and when did that happen??!!” surged through him. He wanted to laugh, he was so happy, but wasn’t sure how Daryl would take it, and didn’t want to risk it. This was too new, still too fragile.

“So what now?” Finally Daryl raised his eyes at Rick. 

“Now? Now we leave, eat something on the road, finish this trek, get back to the car and continue, so that we get to go home at some point.”

“You know what I mean,” grumbled Daryl.

“No, I know what you meant.” Boldly, Rick took Daryl’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissed it, lowered it to his lap and kept holding it. _ He’d better get used to this. _ “What I meant was that our lives go on like they did before. We keep working together, watching each other’s back, leading and protecting our people. Together. And I love that. Let’s not change any of that, ok? Let’s just add this twist to it? Let’s stay like we were, just… **more**?” Suddenly, Rick was frustrated. He couldn’t seem to put his _ want _ into words.

“‘k.”

“What, you got what I meant? Out of that babble??”

“Yeah.” Like a flash, Daryl wrapped his fingers around Rick’s neck, pulled him close, and kissed him, a fierce kiss, like sealing a deal. “You talk good.” The familiar gravelly voice did something to Rick’s nervous system. 

“Well, you kiss good.” He cleared his throat. “We’d better get going right now, or I won’t be held responsible for my actions.” Rick’s voice was playful but his jeans **were** getting a bit uncomfortably tight, so… _ This thing will take some getting used to. Good thing is, pushing fifty doesn’t seem to be any kind of an obstacle to getting hard twice in a span of a few hours. _

  
  



	8. Day Nine

They stayed on the road over another night, making it back to Alexandria in the late afternoon. For the rest of the trip they had been more careful; it wouldn’t be a great start for the new phase in their relationship if one or both of them got bit due to having eyes only for each other… It was ok, though, there was the little stuff, and it was nice. 

During a break they sat down on a log, side by side. Daryl wanted to try out this twist they now had, and flung his hand on Rick’s shoulder, all casual but not quite, you know, not anymore. Drew him closer just to feel how Rick went along it. And then the other man turned his head to look at him, and the smile on Rick’s face was huge and happy and so unguarded Daryl didn’t know what to do with it. _How do you respond to something like that? _

_I love him, _ he thought, helpless in front of the enormity of the emotion. Incapable of voicing it -- had never said it to anyone, never felt the need. This new post-apocalyptic family he had, he figured they knew he loved them anyway, he said it time and again through his actions. This thing here, though, he would like to say the words, too. The way it had made him feel, when Rick spoke to him at the cabin… if Rick felt anything similar if he said it to Rick… well, it was a gift, and he’d like to give it to Rick.

_One thing at a time_, he thought, trying to be gentle with himself. He leaned closer and nuzzled Rick’s cheek, feeling the scrape of his stubble. _ These are all firsts for me. Don’t need to cram them all at once, right?_

  
  


************************

“Oh you’re back! How did it go, did…“ Michonne stopped, narrowed her eyes, focused, scanned them like a seventies Cylon. “Fucking FINALLY!” Michonne pumped her fist and grinned like a lunatic.

“Say what now??”

Even Daryl, not usually prone to expressing a variety of emotions on his face, looked like a living question mark.

“You know perfectly well, don’t play stupid with me. Ohmygod, FINALLY the crazy unrequited sexual tension floating around the house is a thing of the past. -Oh my how prettily the gentlemen doth blush! No no, don’t say anything,” Michonne shook her finger at them. “No need to go into the specifics,” her grin grew even wider, “unless you absolutely INSIST.” The wink was positively lewd.

However, Michonne was a good friend, so she sobered in a second, and asked in a genuinely concerned voice, “You’re good now, right? Half the time I’ve been worried sick about you two, half the time I’ve just wanted to bash your stupid heads together. Carol said….”

“What the fuck, Michonne?? ‘Carol said’ -- you saying that we’ve been the talk of the neighborhood? That EVERYONE knew except us… or me, to be exact?? And NOBODY thought to say anything!”

“Come on honey… what was there to say? Daryl seemed to be fighting his own demons, didn’t seem right to butt in with well-meaning inane advice. You, on the other hand, should be handed a medal for being the most clueless person on the face of the earth. What do you think I should’ve told you? Do you honestly think anything would’ve penetrated the Great Wall of Oblivion? You had a bunch of explanations and theories, and nothing was even close! You forget, I’ve known you a year now, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that you only change your opinion if you yourself find the path. Others can chime in, and you’ll listen, but unless you figure it out on your own, we might as well be mosquito buzz. So we did try to ‘chime in’, but you took your sweet time working through this.” Michonne flicked her eyes to Daryl, who had been listening with raised eyebrows. “What’s your excuse, Dixon?”

“Oh, just bein’ a wuss.” Daryl’s tone was downright flippant. 

“Men!” But this time Michonne’s judgment was delivered good-humoredly.

Her eyes went soft. “Don’t worry, you haven’t been the subject of general gossip. Carol guessed, of course, and I fucking LIVE with you guys, and have two functioning eyes. I don’t know what Carl thinks, he’s a teenager and in the middle of his first crush, but there’s been a few calculating looks so I wouldn’t be surprised… Anyhow, I don’t know how much anyone else has paid attention, they have their own stuff to sort out.”

“Aaron and Eric know something’s up,” Rick said.

“Well, they would, wouldn’t they? Haven’t said anything to us, though. So if you want, your secret is safe. Come on, guys, you know we love you, we’ll back you up whatever you decide to do.”

Daryl’s gaze was sizzling on Rick’s temple. _ Make-or-break. _

“No secret. Well, ok, no need to make a public announcement on the town square but, you know, not a secret either.” The sizzle cooled down a bit. _ Yes, I’m definitely back in tune with him. _

Daryl had stopped breathing there for a second. Would this **thing** become a secret that needed **backing up**? _ Hell no_, he growled in his mind. At the same time, the small insecure voice whispered _ what makes you think RICK of all people would want to publically parade this “thing” with someone like YOU? Don’t be ridiculous! _ The scornful laughter tinkled in his head; mocking words just kept coming. _ He’ll find some pretty little blond bitch, and you, you’ll just be the one he’ll sneak to when everyone’s asleep, fucks you until you can’t walk straight, and sneaks back to his own room, that’s all, and no-one will ever know his dirty little redneck secret... _

Rick’s words had snuffed out the sly little sound. Carol’s steady voice came back. _ You’re gonna have to learn to live with the love. _

_Damn right I have to, apparently. Dixons are tough motherfuckers. I’ll learn._

Michonne was talking to Rick. Daryl surfaced from his own thoughts. 

“...the whole family. I’m guessing you two won’t manage the whole evening without giving this away. One spontaneous kiss and you’re done, you don’t need to worry about public announcements...”

“What evening?” 

“Nice to have you with us again, Daryl. Zoned out a bit there, did ya?! Buffet at Carol’s, tonight, just the family and some few Alexandrians. Aaron and Eric for example,” said Michonne with a chuckle.

“So you have four hours,” she continued, “to shower and nap and...whatever it is you’d like to do,” Michonne really was a goddamned clown, “so go, GO, I’ll keep the house empty for a few hours.”

She grabbed her katana and was out like a flash.

A second later, she re-appeared, with a serious face.

“Come here you idiots,” she said, opening her arms, throwing one arm around Rick and beckoning Daryl to join them. She squeezed them both tightly and mumbled, “‘m sorry I’m teasing you so much… you don’t know how happy I am for you… love you guys, you know… you do what you want at the buffet, no pressure from me or anyone….I just…” Michonne let the men loose, sniffed, turned around and strode out.

The men glanced at each other. Daryl’s mouth twitched; Rick looked down, shook his head, chuckled.

“I don’t really know what to say to that.” Rick was amused, and touched by Michonne’s hug attack, and slightly terrified of the evening. He looked up at the other man. Daryl’s smile was gone, there was a hint of wariness. 

“You sure? I mean, REALLY sure? You wanna back down, you do it now. You better know whatcha want, now. Not tomorrow, not next week. Now.”

No insecurity, no hesitation, just a categorical command. And Rick got it. If this thing between them went public today, it would be big news in the small community. Daryl had his issues with rejection, not being wanted, and Rick could imagine what went down in his head right now. Maybe they should’ve just stayed on the road for another day, to learn more about this new level...but they didn’t, they had obligations here, so this was how it was.

“No backing down on my part. Like I said, this has been a long time coming, it’s just me who’s been slow on the uptake. I want this. Us. Do you?”

A small snort. “Need to ask?”

“Just wanna hear the words.”

“Yeah. I want this.”

Both men stood silent for a moment, deep in thought. Even if nothing happened this evening, even without ‘one spontaneous kiss’, or the other stuff, the little extra touches they had managed to grow oddly accustomed to within the last 48 hours, they were on the threshold of something new. Also, why should they not touch each other in public, like couples did? Like Maggie and Glenn, or Tara and Denise? Why should they try to ‘keep it quiet’ even a single moment longer? What would be the fucking POINT? This world they lived in now, nobody could be certain they would even be alive tomorrow. The time to show love was now, not in some uncertain future.

Rick grabbed Daryl’s hand. “Come upstairs, it’s time for a shower and a nap, and whatever it is we’d like to do.”

************************

When they arrived at their rooms, there was tangible hesitation. 

_How does this work? _ Daryl thought. _ Should I wait for or make an invitation? Would I even want to, you know, be in the same room? Are we supposed to...nap together, in the same bed? _ Daryl knew they were silly questions. But suddenly being here, in their home, with Michonne knowing about them, deciding what to do with their freakin’ ROOMS, seemed such a BIG deal, such a HUGE step. Much bigger than what had happened on the road, outside everything.

Rick cleared his throat. A sure sign he was wondering about the same stuff.

“I have a bigger room. Wanna share?” 

_Well, shit. _ It was not the question that threw Daryl, it was Rick’s expression. _ Our fearless leader looks _ ** _shy_**_. _ Daryl’s heart gave a weird little flutter.

“‘k.” He strolled in the room after Rick, put his bag down, and didn’t really know what to do with himself now that he was there. _ Get a grip, Dixon, you ain’t no blushing sweet sixteen. _

“How you wanna do this? Wanna shower first? I could use some shut-eye after. Prepare for the evening…”

“Okay.” Rick turned towards the bathroom, starting to unbutton his shirt on the way, but stopped on the threshold, hung his head. Daryl looked at him curiously -- from the set of his shoulders he saw that Rick was thinking furiously. He waited.

Rick turned slowly, hands still on the shirt, three buttons open. 

“Or what if… what if you come with?” Again, just a bit of shyness. But also -- and this got Daryl’s heart beat faster -- layers of anticipation, of **possibilities**. No definite acts -- just the wide open vistas of infinite possibilities inherent in this new twist. That this was now **possible**, to ask each other to come shower together.

He didn’t know what to say. Oh, he **wanted**. The woods hadn’t given much opportunity for gratuitous nudity. He’d seen Rick before, of course, prison showers and stuff, but this, this was different. He’d be allowed to **look**. The mere idea…

But. Rick would look too. At his ugly scratches and bullet wounds, and his back…

But he’d seen that before, hadn’t he. Once, at least, when Denise had been patching his shoulder, he didn’t have his shirt on. There had been people there. So much had been going on that Daryl hadn’t really registered the fact that no-one had cared how his back looked like. No-one had sneered, or gasped with revulsion. They had all seen their fair share of scars and wounds. They all HAD their fair share of them.

Would Daryl trust Rick to not care?

He’d been silent for too long. Rick’s eyes darted here and there, he opened his mouth, to apologize, probably, but Daryl beat him to it.

“I’m scared,” he blurted. Shit, that wasn’t what he was going to say! What a time to lose the connection between brain and heart and mouth…

“I’m not...good to look at. Or maybe I am, honestly I don’t know anymore! ** _You_ ** try being mocked your whole life, ** _you_ ** try listening how ugly your body is...ain’t easy to believe otherwise. Carol says different but… I look in the mirror, ‘s not what ** _I_ ** see. Coming in there with you, you’d ** _look_ ** and what if you don’t like what you see?”

Rick spoke. The voice of reason -- Rick’s ‘leader voice’ but Daryl didn’t mind, it was what he needed now, for Rick to make the older voices in his head **shut the fuck up**!

“I ** _have_ ** seen you. I see you ** _now_**. You’re handsome, and beautiful, and to-die-for sexy. You’re strong and agile and deadly, and every time you look at me, I feel like the world’s not such a bad place after all because you’re in it with me, with us. You have scars and wounds like the rest of us. And I’ve seen your back, if that’s what you mean. And it doesn’t make me disgusted at you, it just makes me wanna shoot your dad, honestly. No child should go through that. Why would I hold that against you?”

Rick paused.

“But I can ** _not_ ** look, this time, or as long as you need me to, if that’s what you want. Eyes up there, you know,” Rick smiled and pointed at Daryl’s eyes. “I don’t care if it takes time. Someday you’ll be comfortable enough to ** _want_ ** me to look, and I’ll be the luckiest son-of-a-bitch alive.”

Daryl considered this for a moment.

“‘k.” When the decision was made, Daryl didn’t hesitate. He started taking his shirt off, looking everywhere but at Rick. The other man’s amused voice reminded, “Hey man, eyes up here, remember? Works both ways.”

Rick’s shirt was on the chair, now he was taking the t-shirt off. Daryl swallowed. His own shirt fell on the floor. He met Rick’s eyes. The air felt hot and yet... _ oh good god _.... Daryl’s nipples got hard. Rick’s eyes flicked down for a split second, and when their gazes locked again, Rick looked feverish.

Daryl sat on the bed to take off his boots and socks. Rick leaned on the door frame for support to do the same. _ Relax, Dixon, it’s nothing you haven’t done before. You had your pants off just the other morning... _

_Not really helping._

Rick got undressed first. He didn’t linger to watch Daryl. He walked into the bathroom, to the shower stall, and got the water running. “Come in here when you’re ready,” he shouted in such a normal voice, like this was a daily occurrence. _ Well, it might be in the future? _

It felt weird to be naked in someone else’s room. Walk to a shower stall already occupied by someone else. Move around and feel another body, wet and slick, brushing yours, arms and hands bumping together. Heads too -- they both tried to rinse the shampoo off at the same time. 

“What, headbutting now, are ya, Grimes??”

The tiny incident relieved some of the tension. It was still Rick; it was still Daryl.

Through the mist of water, Rick smiled at him. 

“You ready?” 

“Yeah.” 

Rick stepped out and Daryl turned off the water. Rick handed him a towel, and they both quickly dried themselves. Rick left the towel to dry in the bathroom, and walked butt naked to the bedroom. Daryl hesitated but decided to follow suit. The house was empty -- Michonne was keeping her promise -- so he popped into his own room for a fresh pair of underwear. When he returned, Rick was lying in bed, hands behind his head, trying to look relaxed but wasn’t. Again the little flutter in his heart.

Daryl put on his best poker face -- like this was no big deal, to crawl into bed with someone, wearing next to nothing. He might be a goddamn virgin but fuck if he was gonna be a **blushing** one.

He settled down on the bed. Lying on his back felt ridiculous, like two freakin’ corpses lying side by side. He turned on his side to face Rick who was watching him. Rick turned also, and just like that it all felt more normal, like they were just resting by a fire during a routine supply run, talking quietly.

Rick was touching his face again. _ What is it with him and his need to slide his fingers all around my face? Scratch his nails on my stubble, pet my mustache, brush gentle fingers over my temples. _ Not that Daryl was complaining, no. The touch was oddly exhilarating, nirvana-inducing, made him want to close his eyes and purr.

Then Rick’s fingers traveled downwards, trailed through Daryl’s chest hair, _ almost all grey already and what’s with that, I’m nowhere near fifty yet and why am I thinking these stupid things now?! _ The hand dived under the duvet, brushed over a nipple, followed the lines of his ribs. Stopped obediently just above the waistband of his underpants. Like Rick knew that the unchartered territory below required some further negotiation.

For a moment, Daryl lay his hand on Rick’s. Brushed his hand upwards, over Rick’s arm and shoulder, and down again with a firm caress on his back. Pulled him closer, leaned in to kiss him. Rick’s hand slipped on his lower back, and for a second Daryl froze, thinking of the ugly, thick scars there, Rick’s fingers right on the web of bumps of coarse skin and plains of unnaturally smooth skin. But Rick’s touch didn’t hesitate or flinch, it caressed everything with the same gentle-strong hold. Now it was Rick’s turn to pull Daryl closer and _ Jesusfuckingchrist _ they were touching everywhere, feet and chests and bellies and thighs and cocks and _ fuck_, Rick rolled his hips.

Like losing your mind. Their kisses grew frantic and greedy. “Off, take ‘em off,” and it was hard to recognize that the husky, hungry sound belonged to the guarded, restrained hunter. Daryl was squirming out of his own underwear; Rick didn’t hesitate and ripped his own off like a flash, the duvet falling on the floor.

If the things they had done in the cabin had been, to Daryl, the hottest imaginable, then this here had to be off-the-charts scorching. Shower-damp skin on skin, cocks rutting against each other, both of them hovering their hands precariously close to the hard lengths, like waiting for the continuously increasing lust to burst through whatever shyness they still harbored.

Daryl flipped them over, pinned Rick to the mattress, for a second just held himself up, looking at Rick. The other man’s eyes were wild, the blue nearly vanished under the pitch black. 

Rick looked at the man above him, fierce and beautiful, damp locks of dark hair hanging almost to Rick’s nose, framing the archer’s face. Rick’s fingers dug deep in Daryl’s flank, blunt nails near painful, and the hunter snapped. With a deep low growl Daryl bit into Rick, in the place where shoulder meets the neck, teeth almost drawing blood, and something screamed in Rick_. _ He used all his power to roll them over, felt Daryl’s hands roam over his back, pushing his hips down, harder, cocks rubbing against each other, more slick now with all the precom. Rick licked and bit his way down Daryl’s exposed throat, over the collar-bone, mouthed through the coarse chest hair, and landed on his nipple, hard as a rock. He flicked it with his tongue, sucked it, and Daryl shuddered and gasped, and Rick almost came just from that. He moved a bit, to not lie completely over the other man, pinched the other nipple hard, raked his fingers down and down and Daryl moaned and spasmed under his hand and _ holymotherofgod I will never forgive myself I didn’t see it sooner, this wonderful thing right in front of me_, and then his hand reached Daryl’s cock and it wasn’t awkward at all, holding another man’s dick, _ oh HELL no it wasn’t_. The angle was different but this was familiar equipment, he could well guess what would feel real good to the other man. He didn’t know which way to look -- at Daryl’s face, with unrestrained bliss, the man forgetting to be wary or worried and just letting go, or at the enticing view of his hard cock sliding through the tight ring of Rick’s fingers.

“Wanna touch you.” The words hardly comprehensible, Daryl’s voice tight and guttural. 

“Later… just.... Let me watch you come. Please…”

It was like Daryl was given permission. His back arched, muscles tightened, his whole body vibrated, and he came hard over Rick’s fingers, his own belly, white drops settling on his chest hair.

“Now you.” Daryl’s voice was relaxed, almost drowsy with pleasure, but his eyes burned. Rick was so so fucking hard, his cock thrummed with anticipation. Daryl pushed him down on his back; Rick rose up a bit, leaned on his elbows, followed Daryl’s hand sliding down his body. _ Shouldn’t this feel even a little bit weird, having another guy’s hand on me, about to jerk me off? I used to be straight, right? _ Daryl tickled his navel and tiny shocks traveled straight to Rick’s groin. _ Obviously a misapprehension. Because this so doesn’t feel weird, this is _ ** _right_**_, and I fucking _ ** _love_ ** _ this guy, so fuck the labels and categorizations. _ Daryl’s hand had slowed down a bit, fingers screaming shyness; the hunter glanced at Rick.

“Come here.”

Daryl leaned closer.

“Kiss me, okay?” And so he did, fingers still hovering so close Rick’s cock he could feel the warmth of his fingertips.

“Touch me. Touch my cock.” Rick’s voice didn’t command, it begged. It **needed**. So the fingers stopped hovering, and Rick had never seen anything so hot, Daryl’s hand tightening around his dick, brushing his slit with his thumb _ fuck that felt good_, Daryl’s eyes glued to the movement… until they weren’t, they were on his face instead, and Daryl was kissing him, pushing him down on the pillow, and kissing and kissing and Rick came and the world shuddered to a halt.

************************

They lay there, catching their breath, waiting for their heartbeats to slow back to normal. Rick was holding Daryl, his arm wrapped around the hunter. Rick was a cuddler but it had been some sort of a surprise to him that the gruff archer was too. Daryl had, very determinedly, crawled under his arm and settled his head on Rick’s shoulder, his fingers, still sticky with cum, lazily drawing circles on Rick’s chest.

Rick chuckled, relaxed and content.

“What a waste of perfectly good water that shower was.”

The answering grunt was definitely amused.

************************

“You guys decent?!!!” Michonne’s holler woke them up.

“Fuck, we fell asleep…” Rick mumbled. He heard Michonne’s steps on the stairs. “Well, shit…” A knock on the door. “Michonne, I swear to god if you open…”

A goddamn **giggle** from behind the door cut Rick off.

“Don’t worry, honeyzzzzzzz!! Just came to warn you that Carl’s on his way home and we should be at Carol’s in an hour.” Feet padded back downstairs.

Rick turned his eyes to Daryl. The man was lying on his back, looking back at him. 

“We should…” Rick started.

“Come ’ere.” Daryl didn’t wait for Rick to obey; he met him half-way, pulled him near and kissed him. Not hard and hungry, like before, but gently, carefully, savoring the touch. Then he stopped, pressed their foreheads together, let the air calm down.

“Now we go.”

And Daryl threw the duvet away, hesitated for a split second, glanced quickly at Rick with a faintly pleading look, rolled off the bed and walked to the bathroom. In order to do so, he needed to turn his back on Rick, and Rick honored his promise and averted his eyes. He had got Daryl’s hesitation. One day it wouldn’t be there. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe in ‘loving someone whole’ -- that was for romance novels and fantasies. In the real life, you can only support and help, and fuck if that wasn’t what he was going to do. Support and encourage and help, so that the hunter would find, within himself, his own value, his beauty. There would be less and less of days when he wouldn’t trust in people’s love and acceptance. And one day he would also believe he was good to look at.

************************

While Rick was showering, Daryl picked up some clothes from his room and took them back to Rick’s. Or was it theirs now? He was halfway dressed up, sitting on the bed, when he heard the shower turn off and Carl run up the stairs to his own room. Rick stepped out of the bathroom.

“Carl’s home.”

Rick noticed that Daryl was dressing up here, not in his own room. He also noticed the tight, stubborn set of his jaw. The man rose up, tucked his shirt in his jeans, crossed his hands over his chest and stared at Rick. The challenging look he gave him reminded Rick why Daryl was one of the deadliest, most vicious fighters in their group, absolutely single-minded when he decided to go after something.

“Get dressed now, ‘k? You should talk with Carl before we leave, right?”

_Oh, so that’s what it’s about. Still trying to call my bluff._

“I’m thinking we’ll talk with him together. ‘Cause that’s what this is about, ain’t it? Us, together? Would feel weird leaving you out of this conversation. We’re family, any which way you wanna look at it.”

They got dressed and went to knock on Carl’s door. “What? ‘m busy!” 

Even an apocalypse wouldn’t stop teenagers being teenagers, apparently.

Carl looked slightly startled to see them both enter his room. “Gotta be something serious if it’s you both! I haven’t done nothing! Well… have I?” Carl frowned, thinking back. Rick so wanted to roll his eyes but yeah, not the time.

“Nah, it ain’t you, kid. Somethin’ else. We gotta tell you somethin’, you should be the first to hear.” 

Rick was kind of surprised to hear Daryl taking the initiative with his low, raspy voice, but it was a good opening so Rick pushed on.

“Look, Carl, you know how Daryl and I are really close friends, right?” 

Carl raised his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, so, we... we both realized something the other day. Sometimes a friendship can change into...something more, so…” 

Carl was biting his lower lip hard, and his cheek was twitching. Daryl eyed him suspiciously. 

“Carl,” Daryl’s voice held a real warning. “Spit it out.”

Carl flashed a genuine smile. “Awwww, Daryl, had to let dad sweat a little!” 

He paused, looked at the men back and forth, smiled again. “It’s ok dad. I’m guessing you two have finally seen the light?”

Rick felt like his eyebrows had reached the top of his head. So it was official: every goddamned person in this fucking universe had fucking known about this except the fucking leader of the fucking community. Even his teenage son, for fuck’s sake!

“So, we don’t have to have an awkward heart-to-heart about this?” Rick asked just as Daryl confirmed, “So you cool with this, kid?”

“No to dad, yes to Daryl. Just keep the worst of it out of my eyes, ok.” 

Carl grinned, but Rick bit his lip. He had a quick-witted son, though, so Carl rushed to continue. 

“Dad… just so you know, I didn’t say that because… you know… it’s not that… if you’d date, like, Michonne, I’d still say the same thing, ‘cause, hey, you’re my _ dad_, and it’s, like, ewwww…”

Daryl chuckled, the familiar low rumble. “So, you’re cool, Michonne is cool, we’re all cool. Now we can leave, right?”

The men left downstairs. Carl shouted after them, “So what’s it gonna be now for me? Is it, like, ‘dad one’ and ‘dad two’?” and sniggered loud, obviously very satisfied with his wit. Rick gave in and rolled his eyes. At the same moment, he frowned. This had gone freakishly easily -- should he be worried? Was it completely normal for a fifteen-year-old boy to take his father’s new love interest -- a same-sex interest no less -- in his stride like that?

Michonne sat in the living room, waiting for them. Carl’s shout had carried downstairs so she knew they had talked with him. 

“He took it well.” Rick answered before Michonne asked. She must’ve heard the doubt in his voice. 

“I don’t know why I have to tell you this, it’s not like you don’t know, but see, the world has changed. Carl has been raised for these past years in an environment where old idiotic prejudices just don’t have any place anymore. You know I don’t mean we suddenly live in paradise… there are plenty of new prejudices to go round. But Carl has grown up seeing all kinds of couples, and the way the world is, I’m thinking the only thing Carl cares about nowadays is, is it a _ happy _ couple or not? Is it a couple who can _ protect _ each other? Can they protect their _ families_? Speaking for myself, and probably most others too, it’s the same. I’m not saying there might not be a few who’ll look sideways but who gives a shit? Right?”

“Do you just read minds these days, or did I speak my thoughts out loud again?” Rick asked, amused.

“Nah, you just ain’t very good at hiding what’s on your mind.” Michonne grinned widely.

Carl stomped down the stairs. “We going or what? I’m hungry.”

************************

People kept moving around, getting more to eat or drink, sitting on the sofas and chairs and even on the floor. It was only the family, plus half a dozen closest Alexandrians. A group small enough to feel safe in, and large enough to split naturally into little groups of conversation. 

Aaron and Eric had spoken with most of the people already. 

“Where’s Daryl, I’d like to ask how the trip went,” he asked Eric. 

“You getting blind in your old age?” Eric laughed. “He’s right there, by the fireplace with Rick.”

Aaron turned his gaze in that direction. Daryl was leaning on the wall, lazy and relaxed, arms crossed, hair covering half his face which was turned towards Rick. The other man was also leaning on the wall with his shoulder, half-turned towards the hunter. Rick was talking.

Aaron frowned, nudged Eric. “Am I imagining things?” Eric turned to watch the two men as well.

Rick was still talking, smiling just a bit. Daryl tilted his head, said something. Rick glanced down, then up, and for a moment the two men just looked, said nothing, and Aaron and Eric glanced at each other with raised eyebrows, _ well?!_, and looked back. They saw Rick lean forward, take a hold of Daryl’s shoulder as if for support and whisper something in his ear. And it seemed to take a while, and it seemed to be something real interesting as it made the archer flushed.

_Well! _ Aaron and Eric turned away from the two men. They looked at each other, conducted a silent conversation. 

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, really, to see Rick and Daryl talk like that, stand so close, touch each other. Rick’s family was tactile, always reassuring themselves with touches and brushes. But there had been some extra layer in that interaction, something intimate, something just for the two of them.

_Well_. “I’d hate to think that my ankle would be a piece in Lady Fortuna’s game but this time I think I can live with it.”

“So, you think what I’m thinking?”

“Probably yes, honey. Wanna go there and say hi?”

Eric smirked. “Why not?”

Daryl saw them coming. He put his hand on Rick’s, like a sign, and Rick leaned back, unhurried. Just like he lowered his hand from Daryl’s shoulder -- unhurried; their hands sliding gently together until they parted. There was something deliberate in the way they moved, something self-conscious, and Aaron wanted to hug them both, so bad it hurt. These were good people, and it seems they’d found something precious together. 

“Be nice,” he said in a low voice to Eric. But his partner wasn’t blind either, and the glance he threw at Aaron was soft. “I see it too.”

“Good to see you’re back in one piece.” Aaron smiled broadly at the two men, and patted them both on their shoulders.

“We ain’t that easy to kill.” Surprisingly enough, Daryl wasn’t having any of the patting-the-shoulder nonsense; he extended his arm and grabbed Aaron into a warm hug.

“Could I get one of those too?” Eric laughed.

“Got two hands, don’t I?” And Daryl grabbed a hold on Eric as well.

“Not that that wasn’t nice and all,” Aaron said after Daryl had finally let them go, “but was there a special reason for that? Or was it just to say you love us?” He softened the words with a teasing tone; he knew the hunter sometimes got uncomfortable with tender words.

“Just...you’re good friends, ok.” Daryl’s eyes flickered, embarrassed all of a sudden. Aaron wanted to help his friend and turned to Rick. “How was the trip?”

“We didn’t see any people, just some walkers. A huge herd passed us on the first morning, just when we were still sleeping in the hunter cabin. Lucky that Daryl noticed them and we managed to hide.”

“But where? There’s nothing in the cabin, just the wall-sized windows! The cupboard is too small.”

“Under the bed. Not too much room there either but we managed.”

Aaron was certain it wasn’t Daryl’s intention: at Rick’s words his mouth twitched, strained not to smile.

_ Ok then. _

“I bet you did.” That was the extremely amused voice of Eric.

_ I told you to be nice! _

Rick was having none of that. “We most certainly did.”

“Solved your problem? Walkers, I mean, naturally.”

“Of course you do. Yeah, we did.”

A whole other dialogue nested between the lines. The four men stood there for a while, looking at each other. Understanding. And then it was over, and the world was back on track.

“So, what’s been happening here while we were gone?” Rick asked.

  
  



	9. Day Seventeen

“Dad??” Carl strode in. “Dad!!!” Still no answer. “Come on, dad?? ANY dad??!!!”

“Coming, coming, what’s with the shoutin’??” Rick walked in through the back door, wiping his hands on a rag. “Cleanin’ the rain gutters before it gets all dark, sorry, didn’t hear ya at first.” Rick fixed a mock-stern look at his son. “Tryin’ to be funny with the ‘any dad’ stuff?”

“Whatcha mean, ‘trying’? That _ was _ funny!”

“Yeah yeah yeah… so what’s up?”

“Michonne said I could go with her, she’s got the first night watch at the main gate. Can I, please? You don’t let me do them on my own but please, can I go with Michonne?”

“You sure, son? It’ll be late before you get to bed, and you sure love your sleep…”

“Oh ha ha, dad, YES I’m sure.”

Daryl strolled in from the front door, crossbow on his back, motorbike grease on his hands. He looked questioningly at Carl.

“Sure of what?”

“Carl wants to go on night watch with Michonne. Main gate. Whatcha think of that?”

Daryl still hadn’t got used to this, being included in everyday decisions concerning Carl’s upbringing. He had seen enough to know it wasn’t always like this, with the parent’s new partner. Carl didn’t even flinch -- he was used to being parented by the whole family anyway._ Lucky kid_, Daryl thought.

“No harm in that, I guess. He’s safe enough with Michonne. Might learn a thing or two as well.”

Carl had turned his eyes back and forth between them. Now he fixed them on Rick. 

“Sooooo, dad…??? Even Daryl thinks it’s ok.”

“Alright then but don’t do anything stupid. And if I hear you haven’t done exactly whatever Michonne tells you to do....”

“Yes! Oh, and Carol says if you wanna come get some casserole while it’s still hot, you’d better move your a… ok dad, ok! I meant ‘hurry’. That good?”

************************

Daryl and Rick stayed at Carol’s some time after Michonne and Carl had left for their watch. They had their own duties the next morning, however; another supply run, they had planned to take another hit at the small village in the north. So they said good night pretty soon, and walked home.

“I’ve been meaning to ask… you remember a couple of weeks ago when I asked you if something about Aaron and Eric was bothering you. You know, ‘cause you kept staring at them. Wanna tell what that was about?”

“‘s stupid.” The way Daryl suddenly found the stars very interesting, spoke volumes.

“Could be,” Rick replied, amused. “Nevertheless, out with it, Dixon.”

Daryl stayed quiet for some time; Rick kept glancing at him, and saw his jaw move tensely, a sure sign that the archer was coming to the conclusion that there was nothing to be done but play ball. He reached for the man, pulled him closer and put his arm around his waist. Squeezed gently.

“Come on, _ pookie_, it can’t be that bad,” Rick said, and got his just deserts by getting Daryl’s elbow in his ribs.

“Shut up… It’s...It was… Aaron and Eric, you know, they’re nice people. Treat each other good. Hold hands and fuckin’ _ kiss _ in public… Ain’t exactly what I grew up around. Dad, Merle, friends...I don’t have to tell ya how they talked about folk like that, now do I??? And there they were, cool as anything, and Aaron, he was my first friend here, first here to not look at me funny. You know, he said to me, the first time we went outside together, that we’re both outsiders. Not that he meant the gay stuff back then, I don’t think so at least, but, you know, we got along, and I got to know Eric, and I sat at their table and saw somethin’ real nice. And then I caught myself lookin’ at you different and the shit really hit the fan, and it became worse to look at them, really to get it that that’s somethin’ so not for me, ever…”

Rick squeezed him again, creating a safe space for his lover to talk. Daryl still wasn’t a talker, probably never would be, and these avalanches of words were precious to Rick; he realized how honored he was, to get Daryl to lower his shields in this particular way.

So, Rick had been partly right. His inner Holmes was satisfied.

“Thanks for telling me. And I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard, just now.”

“Nah, ‘s ok. No reason you shouldn’t know. Just… it’s embarrassing, ‘s all.”

“You’ve got a funny definition for embarrassing. I thought it was beautiful.” Daryl snorted. “You don’t get a say in this, Dixon. It was beautiful, end of story.”

“Sir yes sir!” And Rick received another well-earned elbow in his ribs.

  
  


************************

Daryl didn’t need his poker face anymore -- it wasn’t awkward to shuffle under the duvet and feel Rick’s naked, warm body tight against his. It was just safe. Safe, and exciting. He had started to sleep better, and Rick hadn’t mentioned any weird dreams since...Daryl didn’t even remember. Over a week, at least.

Rick snuggled closer and put his arm around Daryl’s waist. “It’s starting to get colder. You should bring the duvet from your old room. Warm, me likey.”

“I’ll show you warm,” Daryl said in a husky voice -- and tickled Rick hard on his side, just under his ribs. Rick howled, and there was a short but spirited struggle. Rick lost, but he didn’t mind -- was it really losing if you were lying there, under your lover, your hands pinned over your head, your eyes roaming over his beautiful shoulders and arms, strong muscles all taut. It wasn't losing, to feel his hard cock twitch between you, and just KNOW how good it would feel to touch him, to feel his touch.

Daryl leaned in to kiss him. The grip on Rick’s wrist eased; Rick put his hands to better use, running them over Daryl’s back. He had stopped flinching every time Rick did that -- a small but important win. Daryl’s mouth moved downwards, Rick’s eyes grew dark and surprised when the hunter just kept going. Daryl kissed his way to the sensitive skin on Rick’s groin. Rick was dizzy with pleasure and incredulous anticipation. Surely Daryl didn’t mean to...no… Rick raised himself up, leaned on his elbows. He wanted to **see**.

Rick’s cock was rock hard and angry red, twitching, so fuckin’ CLOSE to Daryl’s mouth. The archer took the cock in his hand, spread the precum, and started to jerk Rick off so goddamn SLOW. He was still licking and nipping the thin skin where the thigh meets the belly, and Rick was going crazy with lust.

Daryl raised his head. Looked and looked at his hand, at Rick’s hips making small movements, _ fucking _ his fist. Daryl glanced at Rick, saw his avid eyes glued to his. Under Rick’s gaze, so unflinchingly full of _ want _ for him, Daryl was braver than ever. Not breaking eye contact, he stopped jerking him off, lowered his head and _ licked_. From the root to the tip, twirled his tongue around the glans, closed his lips around it, and sucked softly. The sounds Rick was making were barely human, and Daryl was uncomfortably hard. He took more of Rick’s shaft in his mouth, moved his tongue on the underside, and didn’t really know whether it tasted good or bad, those words weren’t part of the equation because this was _ Rick_. 

He felt adventurous; he moved his other hand just a tiny bit lower, brushing Rick’s testicles -- the gasp probably proved it felt good, right? -- rolled them in his palm, rubbed the soft skin behind them with his fingertips. No-one was touching him, and yet it felt like he could burst from lust and pleasure. Weird. That giving someone pleasure could be this exciting. Never stopped to amaze him.

Rick’s hips kept making the small movements, up and down. Like Rick was fucking his mouth. Daryl felt the hair on the back on his neck stand up. _ Fuck that was _ ** _hot_**_. _ His hand moved more recklessly, he didn’t think, his fingers were everywhere… and then Rick howled and jerked and near-sobbed from pleasure, and Daryl was aware of his middle finger reaching so, _ so _ low, and brush and brush and brush over the tight puckered ring of Rick’s hole. Rick grabbed Daryl’s hair, growled “I’m coming”, and tried to pull Daryl away but he didn’t want to, no, and then his mouth was full of Rick, and it was all good, Rick’s fingers on his hair so tight, and the puckered ring spasming under his finger.

Daryl swallowed and swallowed and licked Rick clean. He looked up to Rick’s blissed-out face, felt his fingers still on his hair, pulling him up. “Come ‘ere,” Rick whispered. Daryl rose on his knees, Rick’s hand was on his cock in a flash, and he blacked out for a second, he came so hard, his cum pooling on Rick’s belly and chest.

“Jesus you’re hot.” He heard Rick’s trembling words, tried to smile but the muscles in his face didn’t want to cooperate just yet. He slid down on the bed instead, and nuzzled Rick’s cheek; for a moment they lay there in silence, content. 

“Hot but sleepy,” he said.

“No no nonono, we can’t sleep like this… get up, shoo, we’ll shower first.”

“Spoilsport,” Daryl mumbled, but got up and went to the bathroom, got the shower running. No sound from the bedroom.

“Get your ass in here! If I have to do this, so do you!”

“Bossy, aren’t ya?” grumbled Rick, finally standing at the door.

  
  


************************

Rick was drowsy, on the verge of falling to sleep. The hunter was lying behind him, his arm tight around Rick, head pressed against his neck, breath warm on his skin. Not yet asleep, apparently; Daryl’s fingers were slowly brushing to and fro on Rick’s belly, gently, like an afterthought, not requiring comment or reciprocation. 

Rick drifted in and out of sleep, floating in that pleasant limbo between consciousness and slumber. Then something got his attention -- brought him back from the threshold of sleep -- there was a voice -- Daryl’s quiet, quiet voice, just a whisper, repeating, like trying out the words, tasting them, relishing them.

“I love you.”

  
  


************THE END**********’**

  
  



End file.
